We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Doomed Divide

by Quid & TomBombGrenade

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Includes 8-panel fold out w/ full album lyrics. LIMITED QUANTITIES! Once these are gone, they're gone; I never repress or reissue old material in physical form.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Doomed Divide via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD or more 

     

1.
Flicker 03:02
i see a spark ignite--flicker--the dark of the night lit up a little more; slight hint of an idea considered. a bit of an inner shift in a minute defines difference (rinse) the divide integrates (into grates) and align (a line) quicker a cryptic articulation. interchange information. definitive displays of an innovation in language. a similar situation delivered within each statement, so you're with this and you get it or didn't commit to breaking it down. if you fall in with the latter category, opposed to the former, warning: this in fact may matter more if you just listen it's a vision captured as photographic flashes have been known to happen, though it lacks in that which actually is needed which is seeing. what i talk is caught phonetically, obviously. still most of whom receive can read its meaning through its energy. sonically sketching an impression. in fact, this very second i'm in your heads so pay attention. and catch what i am throwing; open-palm an illusion. 'cause all that i'm doing is solely drawing conclusions and what i see is just a reason to keep on with this movement, as if i even need it, hope is hardly conducive to the overall commotion; stall the fall with improvement. quote-unquote "composure" don't dissolve or undo it. it's all about sufficient lighting; the lightning bolts which are striking the light bulb in the cloud above one's head when thoughts come through it so use it. as we embark it might click or depart from the mind with a little bit of help from the art of implied stigmas. a rift in design--slip-up--missed; and as time ticks away, we may display it as farcical lie hiccups. i'm over it. focus devoted as those in closely-knit circles, though approaching each hurdle with no condolences. apologetic? never! mode emotionless as ever. open to closing this supposed inappropriate gesture. hands down--pun intended--stubborn and unrelenting. never one for resting, i'm trudging on undetected. best to bet i'm besting any and all of my previous efforts feasting on competitors' egos. keep it together while i breathe again and reinvent the reason i'm still speaking, and constructing these ideas into sequences of meaning. set a higher bar standard let this be a lesson; with time should come progression, provided you pay attention. and catch what i am throwing; open-palm an illusion. 'cause all that i'm doing is solely drawing conclusions and what i see is just a reason to keep on with this movement, as if i even need it, hope is hardly conducive to the overall commotion; stall the fall with improvement. quote-unquote "composure" don't dissolve or undo it. it's all about sufficient lighting; the lightning bolts which are striking the light bulb in the cloud above one's head when thoughts come through so catch what i am throwing; open-palm an illusion. 'cause all that i'm doing is solely drawing conclusions and what i see is just a reason to keep on with this movement, as if i even need it, hope is hardly conducive to the overall commotion; stall the fall with improvement. quote-unquote "composure" don't dissolve or undo it. it's all about sufficient lighting; the lightning bolts which are striking the light bulb in the cloud above one's head when thoughts come through it i use this
2.
Chains 02:51
never chained to the game, i'm changing the game; i came enraged with a page of statements to make and claim my spot among the honest ones; novel yet not uncommon; just another guy constructing rhymes out of his love for jotting some ideas down to see them out. like razors to a strop, my tongue consistently gets sharpened. admittedly--and pardon this ability to carve into the average emcee's heart, but--i am still a frequent, skilled-to-teach-it, Civill-speaking Artist. don't confuse it though; i'm quick to flip and rip a rift in space-time. a student in the room to grow; astute and soon to lose control. a beast on beats, i weaponize my speech beneath the lunar glow. my inner tide is tied to cycles of the moon; i move with those, and grew into a crucial role congruent to influential. who knows just what the future holds? if you could know, would you devote the time to try to change it or chain it so it remains? i came to sever said chains, remember the name: who is rocking the mic constantly? Q-U-I-D/ideologies; Tom is bringing the bombest beats. boom! go the grenades he's dropping onto the spot as we move passed the mockeries, facing the flames. who is rocking the mic constantly? Q-U-I-D/ideologies; Tom is bringing the bombest beats. boom! go the grenades he's dropping onto the spot as we move passed monotony, breaking the chains. i'm off the chain as it gets; i came to play not to sit. though i ain't playing in the sense of games; charades is for kids. and never have i been about the fantasies above the facts, i keep it real as can be; deceit is not what i am after. even if ninety percent of rappers cash in on that factor, fact is that i can't; i have to practice that which matters; smashing patterns. tension evoked. end a cycle like a wrench in a spoke. spitting fire, catching secondhand smoke with every sentence i relentlessly release increasing temporal lobe activity; recognize the imagery, reflect, and show the message. every second prone to set the tone in cypher sessions. always on like metronomes. breath control and vital lessons. learn something when i grab the mic and chime in my perspective. if you didn't know, now you do; the Q-U-I-D pressing on in attempt to sever chains and never change. my aim's to better the game, remember the name: who is rocking the mic constantly? Q-U-I-D/ideologies; Tom is bringing the bombest beats. boom! go the grenades he's dropping onto the spot as we move passed the mockeries, facing the flames. who is rocking the mic constantly? Q-U-I-D/ideologies; Tom is bringing the bombest beats. boom! go the grenades he's dropping onto the spot as we move passed monotony, breaking the chains.
3.
when i woke up and i saw the world i thought i knew was gone, that's when it dawned on me all i'd seen was wrong. up until this point, i never knew the song. probably thought i did. i might have wrote some shit once upon a time, but i had never noticed it for what it truly is; never had a clue that this was really just a ruse to trick a kid into communing with nothing of importance; just another fork in the road that leads to nowhere but a grudge and what is more is this distortion of reality forces us to casually ignore the force of gravity. portraits of insanity consistently get painted then believed by the naive; it's image over statements and it seems if i could see every single innovation, the little things that make it sacred, perhaps this place i stay won't seem as vacant. i don't know why i keep on talking to these tombstones. time rolls on by inside this ghost town, i know now i don't know why i keep on walking with these doomed souls (soles). time rolls on by just like a tumbleweed does in a breeze. and once i fell asleep i knew this world i'd always viewed as true, was a mere mockery; honesty, camaraderie had all but been a mirage--façade--and as i was peering through, it then occurred to me the work i deemed as raw was nothing more than a distorted dream i saw. so am i dreaming when i'm sleeping? is my waking state the fake? and how is it that i can differentiate? i'll never know for certain. every effort goes unheard, and if and when these questions surface, will they even then emerge with the same inflection i had posed? made to rectify the most often pondered thoughts of wandering minds that never find their home or way back to the base camp to debate that which happened: were the spots we rocked or the props we got truly all for not? if that is the case, may we all grasp it tightly and attach these hand-prints. perhaps the changes made won't seem as drastic. i don't know why i keep on talking to these tombstones. time rolls on by inside this ghost town, i know now i don't know why i keep on walking with these doomed souls (soles). time rolls on by just like a tumbleweed does in a breeze.
4.
Last In Line 03:37
starts like this... 1985: youngest of three. last in line, Patrick Ryan, born 8/17. natural pessimist; everything negative seemed a better fit. never considered unfriendly, just never truly connected with majority rule. too many questions to contend with to devote attention, so ignored the order of school. i was bored with it. done since day one; an unfortunate decision, but mine nonetheless, so bet precision was neglected. effort impending, never interested in anything requiring energy or attention. any mention of a permanent record furthered aggression, and an "i don't need to know this" bogus personal perspective. reckless frame of reference devoid of any cares. '97 came and went but it had joined me with a rare intrigue, and a need to express just who i am. since i first used this pen to vent, i haven't lost interest again. last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here giving my all; never considered the risk of the fall, i'm always last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here giving my all; never considered the risk of the fall, i'm always last last in line last in line i'm always last in line 2001: first release, such a rugged emcee. second year of high school, soon a third of what would be considered by all involved the illest crew around town: Cold Blooded Kriminals. i didn't know that we were the clowns, although we figured it out then moved on to something better. one member left and then we stepped from not so front and center to even less so: The Basement, '02. the birth of Civill Artists and the grave of old news. learned The Basics in '03, then The Replacement Presentation, and even though i made it, neglected to attend my graduation. still a pessimistic presence, though the message was impressive; took the Slanted Sidewalks of life while talking Level-headed. did some shows, spread the word, met some girls; lessons learned. every turn met with smirks, whether collective or separate, earned every spot. rocked the mic. years have passed me by, but half the time i spent doing exactly as i planned and that is why i'm last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here giving my all; never considered the risk of the fall, i'm always last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here last in line though i'm still here giving my all; never considered the risk of the fall, i'm always last last in line last in line i'm always last in line
5.
yet another social gathering: he's quiet in the corner, but it's only 'cause his mind is racing; silence aids the horror of the matter at hand. he's got a plan but he can't seem to put it into motion, so he sighs and resorts to stay absorbing his surroundings, drowning idly of boredom. can't relate to anyone's story. sure he'd try but at his core he knows he's born for something more than forcing smiles with contortions of his facial features. take a breather. time is so obscure and remains like that. caught within a time lapse; find that line between true life and dream and try to keep inside that at all times. forget opinions, grin and get a grip; persistence wins the race. everything's in place and sequence. sidetracks aside, passing by, as he laughs, finding life's hand to grasp and pull him out the shell in which he'd dwell inside and for years remain in hiding. finally it's time; grabs that piece which he's been missing all his life, in time decides that times change. why wait? a brand new set of mind games are right around the corner, hiding in the flora, with their sights aimed tight. ain't right to assume an end. essentially it now is allowing anew the room to let times change. why wait? a brand new set of mind games are soon to be revealed from where they've been concealed. with a bright flame, light came; might soon accumulate to bettering surroundings amounting to who is who... she'd take seven steps, freeze, and then crawl in her mind back inside herself/self-esteem was as small as her pride. her eyes wide, though averted from the world she was so nervous to see; yearned to be free of this infirmity. pleas to cease her freeze-ups or just ease up were a permanent deed; an everyday occurrence nurturing this burden and she, to a certain degree, understood the what that could be; once she shook this stubborn nook and reinserted her feet into the ground. found a reason to keep assertive with these internal urges, and a persistence to turn a new leaf. determined to deter the circus besmirching her inner peace, one day she could no longer take the burning so deep. she found the strength to make her eighth step, then ninth, and her tenth. and walk that line between true life and dream with pride and a sense of conquering what honestly she had been fighting for a lifespan. that missing piece finally found; now aligned, and times change. why wait? a brand new set of mind games are right around the corner, hiding in the flora, with their sights aimed tight. ain't right to assume an end. essentially it now is allowing anew the room to let times change. why wait? a brand new set of mind games are soon to be revealed from where they've been concealed. with a bright flame, light came; might soon accumulate to bettering surroundings amounting to who is who... they say the human race is doomed to face an ongoing pursuit of hate polluting faith in others while smothering us in huge debates. loosely based on truths we take out of context but use to bait a few into a slew of slaves. cue the music. who relates? crew up. do what doers say: follow suit, don't choose, obey. dispute does not communicate or compute with such ruthless snakes. impunity imbued, abuse infused with an amusement sways opinions with decisions which limit our room to ruminate and think for ourselves, contemplate, and make decisions develop without the subconscious subliminal help of someone else's ideas. we need to seek our own reasons, and stay true those while using hope to move onto inducing growth and uncover that line between true life and dream that seems to be close but unattainable; this time, i say let's take a hold, and stay within its limits but finish after we find that piece which we've been missing this entire time inside, catch time
6.
Perfection 01:41
heavily lacking in affection through a cracked mirror's reflection. in essence, direction destined to demonstrate and condemn this calamitous little question: who's exactly in possession of the image staring back through glass? systematically sectioned. everything had to be the best; and, yes, that sanity is tested when we can't commit to semblance of fact, we enact amendments to alter one's truth and/or establish some correction. infectious: this here obsession with enhancements and in excess. it never gets any easier, pressures of the media, messages received and all the effort to be seen as indefectible. they're teaching us a lesson in allegiance: just follow trends and keep it hush, allow the lens to be the crux or centerpiece that leads to what, when, why, or how we see the sum of everything that we've become or haven't yet achieved. enough analogies; cease with the comparisons presented. perfection's a perception, a personal preference; pressure is survival. idle is different from idol. everything is measured by an effort to be like those. why don't signs show of detrimental cycles? perhaps the answer simplest is that this is not depictive of survival. idle is different from idol. everything is measured by an effort to be like those. why don't signs show of detrimental cycles? perhaps the answer richest is said image isn't prideful. why though?
7.
repetitious--never admit to mentioning this, it is simple as it is definite; everything seems suspicious on the precipice of pestilence, prevalence gets diminished the cycle then repeats and at best we may catch a glimpse of the division. such visions eviscerate the condition which initially is meant to manipulate the decision making process. progress blocked; the debate abated acceptance is expected, dissention's a violation. deceptions are regulation--standard--and damn it ain't the way it could be. should we keep looking to find escape or keep a steady path? no questions asked or wandering eyes, don't break focus, most stay zoning lacking ponderous minds. it seems everything that isn't real becomes what we perceive to be the real deal because of these cyclic patterns, disasters, and open ends brainwash, rinse, repeat, concede. here we go again... the cycle repeats, and i know time mostly is consigned with deceit. if only we could find a way to break the cycle. although the cycle repeats, and i know time mostly is consigned with deceit. if only we could find a way to break the cycle. whether or not you know this, i've noticed, though most seems hopeless there's always a few who only approach if the motive's focus so we stay alert. read the signs displayed, the body language; smirk adjacent to complacency, pacing, aiming to make it work regardless. carving our mark in this market, target is locked the course of action's been planned, the marker's been dropped clock's ticking. isn't it time for a shock, system? crippling. stop, listen, and switch it to nonfiction. lift the veil, so to speak, and realize the blatant tricks quote-unquote "the way it is," broken hopes, a bait-n-switch. though so many pass no questions asked just following blind do-si-do, yet grow we won't if we can't swallow our pride it seems everything that isn't real becomes what we perceive to be the real deal because of these cyclic patterns, disasters, and open-ends brainwash, rinse, repeat, concede. here we go again... the cycle repeats, and i know time mostly is consigned with deceit. if only we could find a way to break the cycle. although the cycle repeats, and i know time mostly is consigned with deceit. if only we could find a way to break the cycle.
8.
Square One 03:43
another day, another dollar; another way to squander yet another day. tomorrow may not come this way and honestly if it never does, often times i ponder whether or not i'd be at peace with that reality as fact. another day, another dollar; another way to squander yet another day. tomorrow may not come this way and honestly if it never does, often times i ponder whether or not i'd be at peace with that reality as fact. fact of the matter remains that which we cannot arrange or change to fit exact--according to personal preference--exits. then it's back to the patternless maze; square one, so to speak. reassess the need to breathe; decompress; at ease, but seek to be connected. admit it, confessions create conditions effective to those who listen intently and stay committed. this isn't for they who didn't, or those who don't know their limits, it's only for those who get it 'cause they won't need the assistance. ambition: it lives in all of us, call it what you want to but it's there. regardless, to harness it isn't hard so just beware of the action, the passion cast, and the aftermath compared to normality; the reality of that which can't. damn near immeasurable, and in an effort to pull myself up out of these ruts--adjust--i just keep venting until the will resurfaces, reminding me what my purpose is and of the day i made the choice to make this noise; the verdict's in another day, another dollar; another way to squander yet another day. tomorrow may not come this way and honestly if it never does, often times i ponder whether or not i'd be at peace with that reality as fact. another day, another dollar; another way to squander yet another day. tomorrow may not come this way and honestly if it never does, often times i ponder whether or not i'd be at peace with that reality as fact. we're all dying, all slowly; all trying to wall loneliness in and solve why we exist in the first place if it's all for nothing anyway. investigation pending; may we one day make the steps it takes to figure this mess out. definitive. set down the ever-changing guesses, maybe commence the end of speculation. trade it in for real answers; hate to say that seems a tad overly ambitious. hopefully it isn't. the mission: to hear a calling but not all of us are offered one it seems. pardon the part where i don't remark on such extremes. start with the art; my heart i impart, and what this means to me personally is more than any currency. integrity. the effort and energy which i spend on each and every single step to be the best i can eventually will pay itself off; though not in dollars today, but a feeling of accomplishment tomorrow for change. another day, another dollar; another way to squander yet another day. tomorrow may not come this way and honestly if it never does, often times i ponder whether or not i'd be at peace with that reality as fact. another day, another dollar; another way to squander yet another day. tomorrow may not come this way and honestly if it never does, often times i ponder whether or not i'd be at peace with that reality as fact.
9.
time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. i've always made an effort to bide my time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. it's not as though i never abide by time. how much time left? i step into the void to find death throes (throws) every which way. complacent ain't the rage today. a change of pace when facing flames. the fate remains delayed. the fade-away it hangs. ominous feelings congealing this database mindset. feeling alive yet? compiling piles of mindless drivel. abridge the rift then wriggle: the daily ritual. pivotal. kings and criminals living alike once really pulled down to the fact of the matter, allow us the chance to attach our opinions as individuals. liminal. if continual, listen, condition critical; cynical's fairly typical. considering life a game when our Pursuits appear so Trivial, and time--though fast--is stagnant, and the act of reaching pinnacles fails leaving us miserable considerably close to a transitional committal to a medicinal dose. i don't condone it, only own it. my time is mine and i focus it on honing in on skills to build and will to fill each moment in time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. i've always made an effort to bide my time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. it's not as though i never abide by time. this time, yo, i got a sick rhyme, i'm straight to the highest mental state; drop a boulder on your mind. why try? modified psi-solidified design. i find these raps a bit behind. so this time, yo, i'm going to change minds. de-abstractify the bloated rhetoric of mine and justify with positive vibes and let the truth guide but the truth won't thrive without the negative on the other side. so this time, i'm fine. i think. threw away the raps and writing melodies to sink your heart into. fresh start into instrumental art; i knew i needed more to know i grew. this time i'll wipe away the grime, eradicate the pain in my chest, and intertwine sublime paradigms so i'm able to fly to my prime; cloud nine this time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. i've always made an effort to bide my time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. it's not as though i never abide by time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. i've always made an effort to bide my time. time left and left me wondering why i haven't had much time to decide. it's not as though i never abide by time.
10.
there's a firestorm spreading in my head again that never ends setting up my second wind, i guess that's an impending thing since basically it's been the case from day one in this inescapable abyss where everyone surrounding is so full of shit. i hear a lot of talking, i don't see any changing. another year is gone as we keep slowly separating further and further away from any discernible stasis or true representation of diversification. it's as if the world's erasing itself/self-service sustaining remaining a lesson never learned unless we turn to face it with an urgency, unearthing these certain deterrent traits with which to utilize; fueled by the few surviving this doomed divide. it's us against ourselves 'til nothing's left to tell, and no one's left to say it anyway, it's just a shell. something that once was once upon a time it's been hypothesized a world without change is fated to fossilize. the unfortunate truth like a storm is swarming sworn to subdue the core of more than a proportionate few. it's everlasting; never fathomed this as something i'd see. sometimes that's just how it be. the unfortunate truth like a storm is swarming sworn to subdue the core of more than a proportionate few. it's everlasting; never fathomed this as something i'd see. sometimes that's just how it be. there's a quiet calm stationed in the center of this mess enough to prime alarms for sounding; rousing, and often ending up in jumping the gun--not just figuratively speaking. what happened to using fists in disputes if and when the reason didn't rhyme? civilized society: is it lies or irony? thinking of linking both implying trying to see eye to eye for once. the time is nigh, there comes a time to see the wider reasoning why that hides inside of us all too often all is lost in this increasing, holocaustic firestorm of sorts; borderline awry, compliance forced, retorts despised. and there's not enough willing to take a stand and do what's right; the few who might are building up vacant plans and damn it seems to be there's no way out of this monstrous cycle. the symbolic shift and hiking up of politics as usual is fuel to pull the plug on promised time. it's been hypothesized a world lacking respect's destined to fossilize. the unfortunate truth like a storm is swarming sworn to subdue the core of more than a proportionate few. it's everlasting; never fathomed this as something i'd see. sometimes that's just how it be. the unfortunate truth like a storm is swarming sworn to subdue the core of more than a proportionate few. it's everlasting; never fathomed this as something i'd see. sometimes that's just how it be. there's a dire warning rising, the horizon line is priming eyes to move across the picture; add perspective to the mixture. it sure eases in the finalized effort to define the why or vital signs behind the vital signs of trying to find an elixir. some how, some way to escape the obliteration we're all facing. to evade this is the wish within the whispers. talk of the town yet hidden as the scriptures. behind the faces cold as stone and bitter as the winters. emotionless: to show, would show a weakness we can't hint toward having, as it's hand-in-hand with a hazard to our history. which means nobody here is ready to ask for help or answer yells for such; it appears it's trendy to be austere instead of lending hands and ears to them in need. proceed to be of absolutely less than any form of assistance. it's as if bottom line has been hypothesized: a world devoid of care's prepared to fossilize. the unfortunate truth like a storm is swarming sworn to subdue the core of more than a proportionate few. it's everlasting; never fathomed this as something i'd see. sometimes that's just how it be. the unfortunate truth like a storm is swarming sworn to subdue the core of more than a proportionate few. it's everlasting; never fathomed this as something i'd see. sometimes that's just how it be.
11.
Horizon 03:17
i've seen my share of dark days like any other human being. beneath the surface, a certain urge to obtain newer meaning remains. hell if i can't maintain a proper outlook, fully understanding that pain is not just about pushing past. sometimes we need to feel it to adapt and grow while knowing everything ain't easy as we act it out to be; seemingly so leisurely relaxed, but now let's see the bigger picture; reason being that sometimes the night seems impenetrable as if it never will go, in that occurrence comes a purpose and a lesson unfolds; through the fog come a few rays to shed light on the circumstance and offer up alternatives. other times, the light seems to vanish forever, as if it can't or it never will return, but soon we learn of the duality; enter in the dawn of a new day to shed light once again and inaugurate due change. there's a light on the horizon. it comes as no surprise when the world seems it's darkest, is when we start to realize it ain't all bad. there's always a positive with the negative. two sides to everything; both innocuous and menacing. there's a light on the horizon. it comes as no surprise when the world seems it's darkest, is when we start to realize it ain't all bad. there's always a positive with the negative. two sides to everything; both innocuous and menacing. as evidenced by everyone's respective frame of reference effectiveness of personal perspectives of the present tense perception of the pessimist: it never will get better. flip to optimistic proposition: all effort leads to betterment. and whether this is true or not, the proof remains in who we watch. competitiveness tends to give some leverage and skew the plot. in essence, we assume a lot. never seem to choose and oddly enough, easing up is when we cease to truly thrive. sometimes the day seems immeasurable, as if we'll never control any decision made, or risk we take, or lesson we don't. though there's always a few ways to shed light on the options and commence intent to try some. other times, disgrace seems expansive and centered, as if moral has been severed from existence, thus persistence to evaluate whether our involvement can mutate and revolve around resolve while we evolve to a new state. there's a light on the horizon. it comes as no surprise when the world seems it's darkest, is when we start to realize it ain't all bad. there's always a positive with the negative. two sides to everything; both innocuous and menacing. there's a light on the horizon. it comes as no surprise when the world seems it's darkest, is when we start to realize it ain't all bad. there's always a positive with the negative. two sides to everything; both innocuous and menacing.
12.
In The Way 03:12
and once again it seems i'm at the end of my rope; hang it up, jump; best if i don't directly hide behind this mess. commence with letting it show. expose the whole truth as proof my efforts never were known to not be genuine or any less competitive than any of those considered 'the rest' in this depressive yet obsessive collective where pressures never end and pleasures end upon entrance. i'm seeking a change or rearrangement in the sequence; seems instead the control is out of my hands; it's not in my grasp; in fact, it's got me steadily contemplating how to react; i can't. and so i'm stuck, my luck has once again run dry. i must adjust and trust my pen's supply of ink hasn't done the same; think as i thumb each page of my own book and look towards the brink of sinking, numb to pain. 'what's to gain?' is still the question resting on my troubled brain. the more i glimpse, the less convinced i become that nothing's changed 'cause nothing remains except for the change, the only true constant is 'never the same.' it goes sit up and get out, we get up, they sit down. you've heard these sort of words before, it doesn't change a thing about their meaning. seems that something's always in the way. but i still know the song, it goes sit up and get out, we get up, they sit down. you've heard these sort of words before, it doesn't change a thing about their meaning. seems that something's always in the way. and i still know. because there comes a time in every life to find a wider lens to spy a better idea of why we cannot seem to separate ourselves from pride that when we try, all irony aside, we often end up casualties of that which we have made, and well it's sad to see a masterpiece collapsing on its own creator suffocation underway; all sanity just floats away, more accurately slowly fades to black as passion overtakes, the facts remain smacking back, impacting fast at closer range. caught in a crossfire, walking across open graves; calling all cross-hairs, hauling a loss where only those devoted stay holed up. hold up, don't delay; don't adjust the focus, pay attention instead and soon the message will spread with the clarity required to be acceptably read and to merit the severity of catching what's said. it's all significant; everything i've written is deliberate delivered with conviction to further commit to this, it goes sit up and get out, we get up, they sit down. you've heard these sort of words before, it doesn't change a thing about their meaning. seems that something's always in the way. but i still know the song, it goes sit up and get out, we get up, they sit down. you've heard these sort of words before, it doesn't change a thing about their meaning. seems that something's always in the way. and i still know, no matter what they say.

about

Quid's fifth album: third album produced entirely by TomBombGrenade! written & recorded between Winter 2015 and Fall 2016. mixed & mastered in 2016/2017 by Dave Nelson & Jack Rylands at Alley Cat Recording & Floodroom, LTD.

credits

released October 13, 2017

*all beats produced by TomBombGrenade; additional synth on 3 & 7, and bass on 12 by Jack Rylands; bass on 9 by Dave Nelson.
*all lyrics written & performed by Quid; additional lyrics on 9 written & performed by Non-A; chorus vocals/harmonies on 3 & 7 performed by Jack Rylands; chorus vocals/harmonies on 9 performed by Dave Nelson.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

quid of civill artists Villa Park, Illinois

download my music if you like what you hear! buy my merch if you support independent artists!

contact / help

Contact quid of civill artists

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

quid of civill artists recommends:

If you like Doomed Divide, you may also like: