Native Alien

by SUBETROTH

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1.
08:47
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6.
06:51

credits

released March 21, 2016

Recorded at Mountain Fire Studio in Modesto, CA
Mixed and Mastered by Scott Randle
Artwork by Malleus

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SUBETROTH Modesto, California

SUBETROTH is an American Doom band that has unique progressive/avant-garde roots with hints of many other metal genres. Presenting sleazy fretless guitar and bass movements with organic musical arrangements teetering alongside the insanity of oddly focused skip-beat time signatures, SUBETROTH pave the way for a new brand of heavy music, referring to themselves as "Hooker Party Doom from the West." ... more

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Track Name: Mr. Yan
Lay, barbed fist in the ass.
And I want it all. Give me more.


BJ Clinton shook hands.
Sold as freedom.
Peril bought cheap.
Cancer villages.
Organ harvest.
Maximized cum swap.


We all know that sound.
Man’s own greed runs down fallen, whining.
Yuan operates ballsack plying.
Planned the evening of giving thanks,
slave and child alike die
so patrons can live a fabricated lie.


Folded knees.
Bending weak.
Locked in iron. Uniform.
Christmas decorations made by the slain, forced labor.
Peace on earth… huh… to all a good night?
Folding Knees.
Chub-filled beak.
The Great Wall, passage one way.
Cries charred all for a plead.
I won this nightmare.


Boeing, GE, Apple, and Intel operate to make my home strong.
They’re all American, so we thrive. Am I right?
CAT, IBM, Microsoft, Motorola all soar.
This all helps me right?


Wrong. You cannot feed your wants, your needs, without me.


We realize we’re all just sluts.


Well then I’ll just buckle and buy American made shit.
Microwaves and phones and flat screens. All the shrimp I could possibly eat.
All of my kid’s toys will be made right here and you can’t take that away.
Track Name: Ullr'usa Plague
News is mapped by the hand that nurtures the ideal.
Doctrine blueprint manufactured for consent.


Using alms as a way to perpetuate beloved conjecture is not the poison,
using it to maintain the current mercantile system is.


Political and economical equality are the same.
If we were equal, the gilded would fall.
We are not equal by their fathers’ hand.


Lee, Lippman, and Bernays sell Madison’s vision for the nobles to command.
Bruce, Carlin, and Stewart elucidate the empire’s evasion.


Battle is the bloom of the state.


On that day in September, we united to get us some Texas Tea.
The terrorist magic show perfectly designed.
Patriots calling to the sound of war.
The effigy of nuclear reign sacked by the hands of counterfeit natives.
We fall for it every time.
Blind dogs
We obey


Alliance creed compensated with pain.
Hawked our heritage.
Indoctrinate beliefs, makes the grains of man.
We’re lied to and paid for.
It’s not democracy; it’s not what you pledged to.
It’s made to make you buy.
Track Name: Battle Charge on a Stoned Stallion
(Instrumental)
Track Name: A Sure Posture and Generic Poise
We lift from our shadow.
We’re drained of our marrow.
We stray from our battle.
We lay so hollow.


Slight in weight for what you bring around.
A cast and clone you make, plaudits go to you.
Now a soul-melted farce, lie beside your title.
Giants shrug you off.


Runts plowed, running from their innards.
Watch them trespass and cower in the fracas.


Lifeline is out, you’re all red.
Can’t stand, social forum is your pillar.
No staunch brace, no stout mask.
You’re not quite who you think you are.


A sure posture, and generic poise.


Who am I?
I’m nobody, just like you.


We dropped from our routine.
We’ve come for your bathos.
Slight in weight for what you bring around.
We expand on the purpose.
A cast and clone you make, plaudits stay from you.
Fortune of abandon.
Now a soul-melted farce, lie beside your title.


You lay so hollow.
Track Name: Okker's Shanty
In foreign fields crawl.
Frantic wind chimes singing lore.
She’s coming, he’s waiting, the wind’s so loud.
Can’t feel her feet, tracks in the snow are long.



Maintained. Incestuous.
They’re all gone, yet she sees them here.
She’s dying, he’s moaning, the pain is long.
Here, way out here,
here he’s god.



Who are all these mother fuckers who can’t get their dick into something earned?
Where are all the piece of shit faggot fathers who lost tabs on their blood?
Painting faces with the germination of a seed. “Look up at me.”
How fucking romantic.



Every country and every creed
preys on the molestation of a hole.
Filled with hopes and dick and dreams and screams
and all get swallowed whole.
Young sponge.
Pure heart.
Soaked with madness.



Break lines easily. Shame.
Core wretched. Slow hold slipping away.



Marked with a #forsale hashtag.
#forrent if the ROI is steady.
Kings and lords pay for everything,
but all she wants is her daddy.
Track Name: Res Judicata
Hedonic structure keeps the edge serrated.
Identity is not found in abundance, but your fellow man.
Rise. Let's light it up.
We must build a new way.




Skyscrapers as monuments to our existence, then we exist for naught.
A basic altruistic way of life has fleeted with inequality.
We must endure for those with character and crush those who do not.
Love is not the path of least resistance, don’t be a pussy and flee.




It’s our way
Res Judicata




The 545 that run and 1% that own
need to know we will be idle no longer.
True anarchy is not chaos, it’s love and order.




Top heavy nation makes you lose your mind.
All we have is each other’s company to subdue the frustration.
With compassion we will intertwine.
Come stand with us arm in arm or
Come at us dude, you’ll get your ass wrecked.