Meanwhile, In Hell​.​.​.

by Meanwhile, In Hell...

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1.
00:39
2.
03:14
3.
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5.

credits

released January 9, 2012

Meanwhile, In Hell... is Bradley Searston - Drums, Josh Draper - Bass/Vocals, Alex Page - Guitar/Vocals.
All songs written and recorded by Meanwhile, In Hell... in late 2011.
Production/Recording/Mixing/Mastering by Luke "Shreddar" Green @ Green Studios.
All Artwork & Visual Production by Stef Roselli.

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Meanwhile, In Hell... Townsville, Australia

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Track Name: Knee Deep
Knee deep we tread through snow,
through the cold that made our eyes bleed,
blinking just made it worse,
eyes closed in desolation.

Our guide crumbled in time.
Buried? The ground won’t swallow me.

The horizon lined with our hands
in disbelief, we can only count our steps.

This circle we keep on walking
sinking faster,
the more we struggle the more we lose,
these steps are getting slower,
these limbs they hold me here.

The blind led the way and we followed.
The deaf held the key, we couldn't find the melody.

This dead weight in my hand: a compass would have been more fucking useful
Reminder of the time we have lost.
No matter how high we climb,
an exit we cannot find.
We can’t break through.

Have we passed this before? Everything looks familiar
Searching for a memory still, this question remains unanswered.

I don't give a fuck, I’ll keep searching till I drop
I don't give a fuck, I’ll never concede this loss.
Track Name: .22 Caliber Grin
Face covered, hands tied,
Your master he lied.
War mongers and atomic fucks,
Disguised behind mask and tux.

What if I told you, you where blindfolded?
Would you lose control or just be herded?

Like a million before you and even more to come,
like a shot of knowledge from a smoking gun.

Keeping you in a state of affliction,
while they bite the hand that feeds.
Smoke lingers, bridges burned to nothing but ashes.
Backhands to keep their name clean,
they’ll see the dawn of a new day,
No comprehension.

And your guts are torn and your head is screaming.

(You feel) guilty for going against all you thought you knew,
they’re not asking for, they are taking from you.
With a tourniquet of fencing wire and broken glass,
The pressure lets you know that it can’t last.

One move and it’s straight through the jugular.
You have never seen a sin, like a .22 calibre grin.

Like a million before you and even more to come,
like a shot of knowledge from a smoking gun.

* With Lyrical Assistance from Luke Stefanos
Track Name: The Bottom Line
What choice did we have?
We learned to walk in the straightest of lines.
What choice did we have?
Led by the weak, coerced, then abandoned.
The enemy is in our culture, of this cage of our own making;
are our choices made for us, by structures unseen? Are we in any sense truly free?

Do we cease past discretion and direct positive aggression?
Do we reject idealistic vision as childish derision?

What choice do we have?
We learned to walk in the straightest of lines.
What choice do we have?
Led by the weak, coerced, then abandoned.

We either let ourselves go,
embrace ignorance and claim we didn't know,
what kind of life is that?

(because) the bottom line is,
we have a choice to make:
it's simply binary - sink or swim.
Lose passion and momentum, or jump off that cliff?
It'll hurt, but the pain will be worth it.
Every breath will be worth it.
Track Name: Inflation Race
From the fire that burnt this place down,
we're in the ashes.
Flames fed on desperation,
set ablaze by your intention.
Through the weakness of our searing flesh,
you show your interest.

You are the dealer, we are the addict:
no consolidation in our desperation,
you won’t bury me alive.

To stay afloat, your trust is not an option,
we fight the rising tide.
Weighed down by your deception,
your morals beg the question.

We stand to face the force of what's to come,
Without the anchors you have clung to,
abandoned ship, but it goes down.

We're bloated, unable to gasp for breath,
This won't surrender, held beneath the surface.

With all expenses paid and interest overload,
where do we stand?
Our lives are in your hands to sink or swim,
where do we stand?

Hands lining empty pockets, we're flailing, we're sinking.