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Buzzard Dust

by Buzzard Dust

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Nomophobia 02:11
As we sit face to face. I update my status. You can't relate. This network must move faster. If it doesn't keep up it could be a disaster. It only took thirty tries, but the look on your face is perceived as surprised. I have a hard time fitting in...let me re-shoot and we will try this again. Terror in the streets everlasting. Children on their phones as they're fasting. Nomophobia.
Lush Hour 02:03
The time to relax is a thing of the past. You think you've got something good, but it just won't last. You want it. You need it. You might just kill to keep it. You'll foam at the mouth. In a rush to go nowhere through these ten hour days. The next fastest thing just might be the one and I'll just invite you to slow down. Put through the meat grinder we toil away. Don't slip up.
The all seeing eye using people as pawns. The global stage like a chessboard. Disinformation. Key to their oppression. Global elite. Landscape of devastation. Fattened for the kill just like a hive. Glutenous mindsets in a web of lies. They get rich off of you and I. The blue bloods they enable us all.
Paperboy. 2-D thin reality. Exchanged and commoditized like a twenty dollar bill. Sacrifice of first born son. Ritual offering. Pawn manipulating pawn. Blood betrayal. Human resource feed the furnace of corruption. Dirty deeds swept under the rug. Sacrifice of innocent blood. Just like stepping on a bug.
Wake up. It's time for your nourishment. All portioned out in a little plastic box. Doctors words steady ring in your ears. Take it with food, don't you forget. The days of the week seem to disappear. The medicine man strikes again. Side effects supersede the symptoms. The medical bills surround you like sharks.
Eat Fresh 02:29
I don't believe in saints that shit. Ignorance is not bliss in a culture of pedophilia. Putrid human waste. No tact. No taste. Mealy mouthed decrepit vermin use lies to control our lives. They cannot live off of their own efforts. They leach away at our bodies and minds. Tens of thousands reported victims of the clergy. Within the last half century there have been allegations against five thousand priests. Children (Victims) as young as three years old.
Suburban facade of control and tranquility. Deep in the heartland of America. Worker ants set out on their daily grind. Oblivious of what's beyond their destined paths. We are surrounded by a culture of brainwashed myopia. Give up.
Fuck Sports 01:43
Clear eyes, full hearts and credit cards. It's just another distraction from the important shit that makes life hard. Open the books. Tear out their hearts. As they walk tax exempt municipal bonds. As they take our billions. As they live property tax free. Fuck that, I want to watch them burn. Dangle your false idol. Glutenous fight for survival. As they vice grip our money earned.
Shit Town 02:08
Sometimes I feel like i'm trapped in a maze. As an indentured servant to this bullshit church and state. Matriculated, clocked in, barcode branded on the back of your neck. Bureaucratic grind by hands on two sides that have never met. Sometimes I feel like i'm lost in a maze. As they quiet our identity dormant powers are enchained. The individual will never triumph through time. A life of toil to pay your Starbucks tithe. Something has got to give. As the laws wrap around your throat like a tourniquet. You've got to play the game you never asked to join but it's what you get. Faith driven blindness. Fuck their church and state. Fuck these savior politicians. Fuck their KKK.
A suicide maiden cascading across winter waters. No one cared while alive yet profiteers capitalized. The unknown virgin in ritualistic precision towards immortality. Her moment sold to the highest bidder. In death her features perfectly preserved. But nothing lasts forever. She was allowed no consent no say. No posthumous rights. Synthetic simulacra. Condensed apparatus of convenience cannibalized to serve those still alive. The machine never stops. The system set in place can not be overwritten once commenced. Specs beamed to the robotic builders. Pistons press on the assembly line vulgarly forming her visage. Recycled and reused. The forgotten feed the living. Breath blown in to the shells of the dead. The memory of her face, simple ones and zeros. The machine never stops. The system set in place can not be overwritten.



released October 13, 2017

Instruments recorded at The Ward by Ricky Olson in March 2017.
Vocals recorded at The Gossip Factory by Hunter Christy in March 2017.
Mastered at Saff Mastering by Carl Saff in April 2017.

Buzzard Dust:
Harrison Christy - vocals
Harrison Steel - guitar
Miguel Falcon - guitar
James Hoffer - bass
Chris Desrosiers - drums

Additional vocals on "Blue Blood" by Mark "Barney" Greenway.
Additional vocals on "Glorious Gone" by Richard "The Grindfather" Johnson and Kerry Zylstra.

Album art by James "Barf" Callahan.

Thank you.




Buzzard Dust Richmond, Virginia

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