1.Sealed Human
Lyricist：Clark Alan Baechle, Todd Emil Baechle, Joel Andrew Petersen,
Jacob John Thiele
The body dances to the beat of the noises from the street
As patterns grids and schedules go, we took a subway to the show
So give us this day our daily commute
On the bus in three piece suits
Say goodbye, kiss and ride
On the way to the club, look outside
The movement kills in several ways, although we see it as delay
The steering wheel, a guillotine
The body dances to the beat
'Take the subway, fuck the street'
The flesh twists between the gap and passengers are also trapped
Inertia pushed them all along, but they wont make it to their
next stop
Patrons complain about the wait
While the man outside cant feel his legs, 'Just pull me out,
save my life'
But all the cops can do is phone his wife
She drives as fast as she can and gets caught up in a traffic
jam
2.In Concert
You sit outside in the dark and get nicked by the strobe light
while we're playing indoors.
We play in a bar, we play in a basement.
we play in a room where the mix isn't right.
The help at the door, the age to get in,
the artist is smug, they don't sound like they did.
We're ready to move, the crowd is a stare.
If you've got things on your mind,
shake 'em off.
Yeah, that's why we have come to collect you bodies from your
lovers,
and pause all the suffering...
at least start pacing.
You're not on the list,
You paid to get in.
Your boyfriend is mad,
It was something you did.
In concert tonight, the bass drum is quick.
If you've got things on your mind,
Shake 'em off.
Yeah, that's why we have come to collect you bodies from your
lovers,
and pause all the suffering...
at least start pacing.
That's why,
That's why we have come to collect you bodies from your lovers,
and pause all the suffering...
at least start pacing.
3.Casual Sex
Lyricist：Clark Alan Baechle, Todd Emil Baechle, Joel Andrew Petersen,
Jacob John Thiele
Casual sex, is it irrational？ Yes, I think it's time to find out
why
And soon I fall asleep, it's nighttime
In a dream there's a dolphin and a soldier
They're walking through the sand and toward a morgue
In an office there's a hostess who has carried our friend
And wheeled him into a drawer, she pulls his file, the air is
cold
Down the aisle we follow her, I'm thinking casual sex, the
feeling
Casual sex, the soldier's life's the same as mine
And he's attracted to a nun
But the feeling of sex is nothing possible yet
A new wave soldier's standing next to a young nun
The nun just has to pace, her Gothic skirt over her legs
They're getting warmer toward the insides and their tops
The inexistence of time is not a painting, it's life
They're into robes and gloves, goblet glass and crosses
The feeling of sex is nothing possible yet
A new wave soldier is standing next to a young nun
The sound of her voice and the handle of the robe
Are getting thinner as the whip begins to speak
The nun just strikes a pose, the soldier's helmet hits the floor
He's walking backward until he's pinned against stained glass
4.Cars Pass In Cold Blood
Lyricist：Clark Alan Baechle, Todd Emil Baechle, Joel Andrew Petersen,
Jacob John Thiele
There's a fire in the road where a frame is burnt
And other automobiles are slowing down around the fire
Lanes are backed up and people get all anxious inside
They've got a schedule to keep and don't want life to slip by
Oh, uh oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, uh oh, uh oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, uh oh, uh oh
The siren and cube are coming up from behind
1981 stereo is drowned from the sound
I see a car with an urge and a driver to control it
He's carried away 'cause what he does is more important
Cars pass in cold blood
I hold back, it's hard to
I really want to block
But realize it's a bad time for that
I try to stay calm and watch the ambulance pass
But as the car with the schedule pulled out of their lane
I had a terrible urge, but no driver to control it
Don't get carried away 'cause what he does is not important
Cars pass in cold blood
I hold back, it's hard to
I really want to block
But realize it's a bad time for that
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, uh oh, uh oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, uh oh, uh oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, uh oh, uh oh
...
5.Sex Is Personal
Lyricist：Clark Alan Baechle, Todd Emil Baechle, Joel Andrew Petersen,
Jacob John Thiele
I'm caught in excitement, an unusual spell
It's pure in a sense and abstract from our lives
And we talked a lot, abstraction came into focus
Her tales of the tour and a hardcore life
Were unmatched by the pop sub-culture in mine
And we talked a lot and soon it would come into focus
(I tried to focus, I tried to focus, woah)
There's no time for fighting, any sex is personal
Information not appealing to me in any sense at all
Is it wrong to think, I'm a traditional man？
I'd hope I'd be up for an annexation of that
Yea, a part of me, can deal with this open relations
But concept to do is like yes to a goal
It's unclear how it happens
Maybe we'll act how we planned it
We sure talked a lot and soon it came into focus
(I tried to focus, I tried to focus, woah)
There's no time for fighting, any sex is personal
Keep your head above the meaning and devotion doesn't swell
Any sexual encounter adds an awful twisting touch
It's like scamming in the 90's but getting used to this is hard
There's no time for fighting, any sex is personal
Keep your head above the meaning and devotion doesn't swell
Any sexual encounter adds an awful twisting touch
Touch, touch, touch, touch
It's like scamming in the 90's but getting used to this is hard
6.Call Call
Lyricist：Clark Alan Baechle, Todd Emil Baechle, Joel Andrew Petersen,
Jacob John Thiele
I'd sleep on the white tile lobby floor
And pace until the time to visit starts
The bright lights are on but I'm away
How nervous a voice sounds on the phone
You agree when you check in at the desk
Permission and trust in every move
I'd be beside you when they're done
But I'll have to wait until I can call
The blood kept you home while I was gone
They left you a note when you woke up
'Don't be alarmed by wooden splints'
There won't be a need for you to call
Excuses for careless doctor errors
Acceptance by all past patients
Have allowed for a cold disclaiming note
The warning is there, no need to call
7.Worked Up So Sexual
Lyricist：Clark Alan Baechle, Todd Emil Baechle, Joel Andrew Petersen,
Jacob John Thiele
I see you work at night
And are you sexually amused？
What's it like to have a room
Of guys encircling you？
How she moves and how she walks
They all patiently await
While the heat from in their pockets
Could burn marks into their legs
Without your needs and your support
She'd have a job the same as ours
Nothing daring, would she miss
A job that's sex, that's sexual？
In every city there are dozens
Of these clubs where men can go
Some people need a little challenge
To their fantasies at home
There's a little tiny number on a fold of matches
The ink drips from a little dancer's pen
Everybody wants that fold of matches
To reinflate their confidence
Hey, it is a job, it pays a lot
Is it disservicing someone？
And is it good to get these men
Worked up so sex, so sexual？
Older dancers gag at what
New talent seems to mean
Smaller tits and younger limbs
Can cause a fit of rivalry
But it is a job, it pays a lot
Is it disservicing someone？
And is it good to get these men
Worked up so sexual？
8.The Passives
Left eye spins in circles
Passives line the rail
They get no satisfaction
From the electro-static breaks
A beat can't cut the passives loose
They're afraid what we will say
No harm is done when you try it then hide
Parts moving - keep moving
A cool collected life is a safe move
You heard that
You're unsure but it's clear to us
Come to terms, you're alone here observing
Every time you go out you observe
Walk past collared passives
Don't look toward their eyes
It adds to their discomfort
Shows there's some confidence they miss
9.Victim Convenience
I took two steps out of the door
And I got two steps away
And then I turned, the scream was calling
I could not resist
You could find a bead of light
One can cause the outside window to dull
Pause until the evening turns
And it's a.m. routine job or the pills
We're all on cable I.V. drips
Let red cells pixelate us
Constant help needed to unhook
Call it 'victim convenience'
I took two steps out of the room
And I stepped back toward the door
And tried again, a conversation
And it went like this：
I could talk for hours to you
I could watch your mouth and eyes until they shut
The controller's lost and I'd rather commit 'power'
Than hear this out
We're all on cable I.V. drips
Let red cells pixelate us
Constant help needed to unhook
Call it 'victim convenience'
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