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The Visitor

by Bad Optics

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1.
Choice presented as illusion New state-market collusion You don't know where the money goes A new state of confusion Arms sales is big business There's money to be made through American interests, propped up by consumer purchase You have no control We live off of (the industry of death!) It all ties back to (the industry of death!) If you don't have one (the industry of death!) then you are no one (the industry of death!) From the food that we eat (the industry of death!) to the clothes that we wear (the industry of death!) To the movies we watch (the industry of death!) and the money we make (the industry of death!) The money funnels upward from the child to the parent Every purchase made takes a path seemingly errant Defense contractors investing covertly; everything we buy is made by their subsidiaries I said well daddy don't you know that things go in cycles Death invests in culture and in return it gets disciples Those willing to die for something that they'll never get Freedom and autonomy is the carrot on the stick We live off of (the industry of death!) It all ties back to (the industry of death!) If you don't have one (The industry of death!) then you are no one (The industry of death!) From the food that we eat (The industry of death!) to the clothes that we wear (The industry of death!) To the movies we watch (The industry of death!) and the money we make (The industry of death!) I don't want one! (The industry of death!) I don't want one! (The industry of death!) I don't want one! (The industry of death!) I don't want one! (The industry of death!) Double knot, pulled tight, kick the chair, backslide under heaven's simple gaze, everything is man-made Let me out of this prison! I didn't choose to be born in this structure Let me down, I won't miss it I don't want to be part of your industry let me out let me down let me out let me down
2.
You look at me like you want a reaction You're treating love like it was a concession Provoke violence, no confession Wrapped up in your comfortable messes Police mind with a knack for retort There's no crime, so there's nothing to report Sharpen your words like you're hunting for sport No love, no loss, no spirit of discourse KEEP ME AROUND, I'VE GOT BIG THINGS COMING Needles and needles and needles and needles and pins Firing fast out of the mouth of a friend Tiny scars from where they enter the skin Track marks covered so we can't start again You look at me like you've had a reaction Equidistant from both points of interaction Deliver on your promise of inaction So smug in your self-satisfaction! KEEP ME AROUND, I'VE GOT BIG THINGS COMING FULL STOP, COPS KILL NO PUSH, NO THRILL PEEL BACK YOUR WILL DIE ON THIS HILL
3.
The Visitor 03:53
Venerate your patience Prepare for a facelift I know what's gone wrong now I know it's wrong // I'll sing to God The visitor peeks out from under the floorboard! The visitor sees you and does not ignore! Turn your back on the sun December's got a gun Fill your heart with dead weight I miss you now // but you abrogate The visitor peeks out from under the floorboard! The visitor sees you and does not ignore! The visitor wants to be free of it's death throes! The visitor wants you to know what God knows Now we're home you'll feel no pain Shut the gates inside your brain Close the lid on the machine Think of things you'd rather been Look inside at your dirt heart Feel the sparks all fly apart Clear the dust off of the lid, afraid of looking like a kid Remit! Credit! Pay to! The end!

credits

released June 2, 2023

Recorded Sept. 2022 at Earwig Studios in Seattle, WA
Produced by Bad Optics
Music by Bad Optics
Songs & Lyrics by Christian J. Hidell
Engineered by Max Stephens & Abby Le Fae
Mixed by Christian J. Hidell
Mastered by Chris Hanzsek

Cover art taken from 'Saint Jerome Writing' by Caravaggio

Christian J. Hidell - Guitar/Lead Vocals/Synth & Keys
Stephanie Jones - Bass/Vocals
Joshua Ihler - Drums/Percussion/Vocals
Max Stephens - Guitar

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Bad Optics Seattle, Washington

Bad Optics is an art punk band that creates music for the encroaching singularity.

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