Vol. 999

by Cyclopean Beat Music

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about

Cyclopean Beat Music "Vol. 999" is the alcohol-soaked brainchild of Sean Pendleton and Eric Ramirez. Excuses and neglect kept this material sitting on a virtual shelf for the past few years. Sorry. Pop the cork off this well-aged vintage, take a sip, swish it around, and then slug the entire bottle and go on a naked rampage through the burning streets of downtown. This is your party soundtrack for the end times!

credits

released November 13, 2011

Sean Pendleton, Eric Ramirez

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about

Cyclopean Beat Music Orlando, Florida

Former members of now defunct Orlando-based synth band, fwd:, came together once again for a grand hoorah. Vol. 999 consists of two ideas from the fwd: era, coupled with two newer ideas. This project is not regularly active, but that could change at any given moment. Cyclopean Beat Music uses computers to make music, deal with it. ... more

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Track Name: Dark Matters
Dark Matters

From start to finish, just a tired cliché
And I’m the ghost that floats from day to day
Take a number, get in line
Prove my existence, waste my time

Axial angle: 23 degrees
It’s no phenomenon, it’s just me
Hydrogen-2-oxygen, to rusted red
Push the disease, killing with ease

A paperweight, a depression in dark matter
A stark reminder when it’s over nothing matters

Creases, folds, quantum-level bullet holes
Evidence we have no control
Head-on collision in subatomic space
You’ll never see it, but stares you in the face

The light that’s shines twice as bright will burn us whole
The heart that beats twice as long is black as coal

I count the aches and I curse the pains
I’d give a shit, but I forgot your name
Please, don’t take it personal, its finite space
I lose momentum as the hare picks up the pace

The tortoise drags his belly in dark matter
But all he does is swallows worms, and nothing matters

Creases, folds…

Worse than a virus, full of order and contempt

Over the cliffside and through the air
Can’t say the lemmings didn’t warn me, but I don’t care
Falling, fading, finish line
This is the grand finale; this is time

Careening down an endless chasm of dark matter
And even if I reach the bottom, nothing matters
Track Name: Ritual Homicide
Ritual Homicide

Stone sharp, like tongues of fire
Charismatic, addict, liar
Hold it still, “I’m feeling ill.”
Feel the thrill! Now, hold it still!
My addiction, strange as fiction
Flesh falls fast to jagged friction
Wear the skin to hide the sin
Pray the sun will rise again

Kick it back like Kerouac
It’s too late, no turning back
I drink the wine, I’m feeling fine
A drink divine, I drink the wine
Hold it high into the sky
It drips redemption in my eyes
Feel the beat… this fucking heat!
Claret stains out in the street

Let the spirit rise, close those empty eyes

Bloody murder!


Vision’s hazy
Crowd goes crazy
War’s not won by being lazy
Queue of blank stares falling down the stairs
I pray to god, I pray I’m right
If I break this trace, no second sight
A lust for blood, a will to fight
A mind to kill and dance all night

Skull rack, heart attack
Pile my tribute in a stack
Power piercing through my head
Hope tomorrow I’m not dead
Light the torches, bang the drum
All my limbs are going numb
Even with the rising sun, know my bloodbath’s just begun!

Bloody murder!

Bloody murder on the brain
Blood and bodies in the rain
The stars are right, it’s on tonight!
What’s my vice? Blood sacrifice!
Track Name: Broken Sky
Broken Sky

Count down to the hour of our destruction
Count down when the boredom burrows deep
Make way for the judgment of the ages
Make mine a double, make it neat
Run from the specter you created
Suffer the plague of your design
The year two thousand was a failure
I pray this time you get it right

Prepare, the end is drawing nigh
Beneath a broken sky
The armies of the apathetic masses fight their fears
Their shadows on the wall
No atom bombs will fall
Beware the morning after
Back to work, there’s no escape

The ocean swells with aggravation
A tidal wave of malcontent
Stood up by the rumored Supermassive
A broken promise: Planet X
Your screams are echoes in a vacuum
Our lights are stifled by the skies
You lust apocalyptic answers
Sit tight for the letdown of your life

Prepare, the end is drawing nigh
Beneath a broken sky
The mantle sears the underworld
But nothing floods the streets
Except our dreams to die and suicidal cries
If Armageddon’s what you want then make one for yourselves
Track Name: My Halo, Feathered Wings
My Halo, Feathered Wings

Its punch-clock time again
Why did I let you in?
I hate your stupid grin like I hate this den of sin

You’re so damn fired
I’m so damn tire
And uninspired to get you wired

But you’re so beautiful
And I’m a fucking angel

My halo, feathered wings
I hear no choir sing
I do a dirty thing
Trapped in this bourgeois ring

You trendy shit!
That’s fucking it!
You curse, you spit
Another drama fit

But you’re so…

You see through my disguise
I hate your lying eyes
I’m not your fashion fix
My hate goes, “six, six, six!”

You trend machine
Robot obscene
Spoon-fed and mean
But so good and squeaky clean

And I’m so beautiful
And you’re so fucking on my nerves!

My halo, feathered wings
There’s dirt in all good things
Our voices, deafening
Let’s hear the industry sing,

“I’m not your fashion fix!”