A Social Abattoir

by A Social Abattoir

supported by
/
  • Streaming + Download

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

      name your price

     

1.
2.
3.
09:58
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
11:12

about

This is a concept album open to interpretation, which will hopefully send a message about our social wellbeing.

credits

released July 30, 2013

Written, recorded, produced, and engineered by John Manning.

Additional vocals on Mirrors and Stars performed by Erin Manning: erinmanning.bandcamp.com/album/back-and-forth

Additional part writing on Mirrors and Stars (prior to 00:38s) by Kevin Kaine.

Additional part writing on The End (prior to 02:12s) by Isaac Hale of Knocked Loose, Analog Being, and Aesthetics Versus Architecture.

Album artwork photographed by Ben and Zak Norton (www.TheNortonBrothers.com) in Goshen, KY. Edited by Alex Constante.

Special thanks to Erin Manning, Isaac Hale, Matt Moore, Ben Norton (Peculate), Dr. Almond, Alex Constante, my parents, and anyone else who has contributed to this album in any way. Without your advice on the production, writing, etc., this album would not be where it is right now. Thank you all so much.

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

A Social Abattoir Louisville, Kentucky

A Social Abattoir began in 2012 with the idea to spread a message through independent, non-restricted music about the current state of our social affairs. The lyrics for the first release, a self-titled, full-length album, focus on the ideas of a concept which features an unnamed character who finds himself in multiple dangerous situations. ... more

contact / help

Contact A Social Abattoir

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: All Was At Rest
Crawling upward from the ground, from monochromaticism into synesthetic explosions induced by revelation; the finding of black sheep in blinding off-white fields.

Not such a thing exists.

Inhuman words to conjure expectations of perfection, of variation, are lost. While fools continue to dig for secrets tossed away in ignorance, in vain, the wretched sounds of martyrdom mark that which they seek (dig through the earth), the facade covering your identity (dig through the earth).
The remission of a race cannot be found in the earth. The recycling of a persona will end in death.

While the cities crumble, masses of clones race in uniform time to recover from the change of pace presented by this disruption. They care not for one another, for they all hold equal value. Much in the manner of rats, the scramble blindly through obstacles with only one goal in mind. Not anomalistically, they resort to instinct. No logic would aid them. As their routines collapsed to wash filth over their uniforms, a vague realization that survival is lost sweeps over them as the dust does, thickening their masks and burying their previously emerging selves. Now come the wildlife, shaken from their underground dwellings to see that life is ending before them. In a manner similar to that of the city's population, they race blindly towards their own goal. In a frenzy of activity, many die, many are injured, and the strongest of the masses stumble onward. With the thunderous impact of the world's rapid implosion, long-dormant thought buzzes through the minds of the clones and personalities are revealed.

They think so little of their friends, enemies, families. They never knew that each person had lives, experiences, memories, hopes and dreams.

As the earth continued to shake, and as history and fate continued to shatter, the surviving members of the city, in their desperate realization, began to consider the others around them. Each of these people had pasts, futures, hopes, dreams, memories... With the end of the world came the end of life, and with the end of life the loss of the gently and artistically woven threads of existence for human kind. The masterpieces of time and space began to tear; images of creation in its massive expanse and erupting light and color withered away, and only sounds carrying screams of remorse and longing through space were stifled violently as it withdrew.

Creation is at rest, the singularity the only light emitted through vast nothing.
Track Name: Mirrors and Stars
The seasons fluctuate with waning acknowledgement, breaking away from novelty to express the ideals of blinded majorities. Clear cylinders break open, and enter: opacity; designed to choke the unique and promote the loss of a life.

Slow this down. This prison has my name written on its walls. Cut out my eyes before I witness this illusion that I've become in such little time in my exposure, distributing the lies that I formerly antagonized. These fucking puppets have become my masters; my strings are tangled together, and the stage reflects my flaws. Seek, now, the trap to which I gravitate (my own faults: I'm drowning). The stage is breaking beneath my screams, and away to oblivion.

The things a crow puts in its nest are always things that shine the best, but the light that the moon casts is still just a liar... and yet you believe.

Your eyes consume; regurgitate the reflections over and over again. Continue the cycle, plastic clock towers burn uninterrupted; and the gears, they grind with a painful concentration, with no hands, words, or explanations.

(Our schedules manifest in colors outside of our native spectrums, and our futures stare back at us from mirrors.)

The stars, they watch us, oversee our conflicts/problems, retain favor. Collapse into false security with notions that the stars will live with brightness, burn to rhythms corresponding with our lives' spans. Distance has been manipulating perceptions;

the stars are dead.

For the time being, I recognize my failure, but this cycle dictates that I would stray, fall back to instinct. To thrive in the age of this social abattoir: it is an instinct, it is a handicap. No distractions shall impede my progress; no longer will I stray, no longer will I conform.

Mirrors crash, stars burn and explode, and I am reborn.
Track Name: Meditation
The contrast of our wishes and our actions is obscene. The symphonic groan of the earth rattles through our deteriorated forms: the incomparable shudder of a planet as it slips to its silent fate, the roar of a secret that will someday silence us all.

Like ants which scatter over the ground, our impact disproportional to our significance. Our ambition to preserve what's ours, as we rot in the poison of our measures! Slither through the filth; convince the others of our good intentions.

Accelerate through the fabric of our astigmatic view of time.
Your world is lost. Your life is gone.
As the populace drowned in synchronization through the night, we saw this planet iced over, glassy like our teary eyes, whimpering.

Burning through our minds of malicious intentions; created just the same.
It's all the same.

We're crying out for a change of pace. Even the inanimate shudders for our future.

Shiny new boxes of guaranteed promises of a better future call out as the manufacturer churns out the intoxicating measures which we take against our own mistakes for a better future, a happier family. Medically supported smiles glare from the windows of treadmill-occupied cages, which the inmates have forced themselves into. As I stare into the cells, I regulate my protein pills: don't drink too much, don't stress to much. Progress. Conquer.

I've never seen so many bodies piled in such a small space. (Don't make eye contact, don't let them know you care.) Glassy and unfocused eyes reflected in the windows; the clearest windows I've ever seen. Where have the old days gone? When were these atrocities made our goals? Forced to submit to our routine and like it. You are one of us now, unique just like the rest of us.

Reality station overlooks breaks in normalcy. My crystal clear reflection allows me to see every mistake of a burden, imperfect specimen, the bastard son of a race mislead.

Press further with price tag claims of safety. Never know what happens in the back room. Never safe.

I've never seen so many bodies piled in such a small space. (Don't make eye contact, don't let them know you care.) Glassy and unfocused eyes reflected in the windows; the clearest windows I've ever seen.

Scars in the belly of the earth concealed to hide nature's mistakes.

The contrast of our wishes and our actions is obscene. The symphonic groan of the earth rattles through our deteriorated forms: the incomparable shudder of a planet as it slips to its silent fate, the roar of a secret that will someday silence us all. I'll spend some time tonight, let my eyes reflect the starlight. Antibiotic propulsion sends me to meditation.
Track Name: Consumption of the Masses
We were left with our troubles; a race designed by hatred, these circumstances the children of our mistakes. The violations of our waking thoughts: the window which opens to our dreams was pried asunder by the filthy hands of our brothers. The increasingly rapid consumption of a race's own integrities, the frightening wishes of one toward another prevented by mere thoughts.

You can't take back what you've done. The fabric of our time cannot be mended. This time it's personal, my witness of your failure has shown your faults and weakness. I will show the world.

You tell them that you make no mistake, that you're a martyr when you're a coward. Other stronger men have burned for your trespasses, and there you sit, still intact. This is no game. This is the end.

The wretched sounds of praise that deafen me for your accomplishments. The vain approval of the shepherd's watch; the choreographed smiles.

You tell them that you make no mistake, but you're a liar and you're a coward. Other stronger men have burned for your trespasses, and there you sit, still intact.

The fire awaits. You cannot escape the grave that you have created. It's the unbalance, the catalyst, the influence of nations; it's the desecration of a once respected bridge, the fuel to the fire.

Is he the man whose title he claims? Is he the man bound in our own chains? Is he the man of higher authority? Is he the man of merciful tendencies?

The fire awaits the grave that you have created. String yourself up, show the world the lies that you claimed. Make yourself hang, save the remaining lives.
Track Name: The Placebo Effect
Purged of the understanding of my own mind, my fear the caricature of my own self doubt. My expiration date carved into my bones to put a whistle in their hollow breath. "This song will make you fall asleep much faster." My cynicism (is) a simultaneous antagonist.

Wall to wall, it's the only room I've ever feared this way, the only sight with which my eyes are plagued. My only company to tell me it's alright doesn't understand this pain. Between measurements of my designated dose, I listen and believe them, deaf to the cries of the other worlds.

I look through my window to the neighboring room to see the faces of old friends contort in pain; and they writhe as they slowly feel the approach of what will be their last breath.

I don't know what to do (my whole life gone to waste) but listen to the cries outside. (How could I not hear before?) When was I told this? (It was never spoken.) The only sound is the echo inside of my mind. It's deafening, more so than the sound of my own screams. While I dutifully reach for my last dose, the white pill tastes sweeter than I'd noticed before, and then all is relieved.

What is this phantasm that has burrowed into the dreams that dictated my reality? All of those with whom I grew up are in a single pile, their open eyes are penetrating my soul. I will not bow to those whom I've trusted for so long, I will not show forgiveness for this brutality. What will I do with my life now?

Crawl to my knees; I have never felt such hatred. The weight of a hundred corpses is stifling my efforts, is burying my feelings.

Purged of the understanding of my own mind, my fear the caricature of my own self doubt.
Track Name: The Beginning-Pt. I
Born of a foul-tasting paper escape, mother and father questioned its sleep, questioned its life, doubted its death. A frightening new experience threatening to absorb its surroundings. Push through to flush out the unnecessary realism that plagues your being.

Seeking something more profound, over-thinking until death arrives: the constant struggle for the unattainable.

Always careful to avoid the unknown, but still standing in the dark, seeking the new in the old. Internal governor highlights my instabilities; I am a threat to myself, to the other prisoners. A feral god who has yet to learn the fine line between illusion and reality.

Crawling towards the sun just to gaze upon creation, sinking toward the ground as a greater entity stifles me; I'm not alone. I can't be alone.
Track Name: The Beginning-Pt. II
I awake in another's dream, invasive even in thought, search blindly through eyes obscured by waves of colors. Never fully awake, writhing on the ground, offering to my internal entities. Please take me away.

There must be something better than this life of false dependency.

I lay broken, reflect upon my past observations under an illusion that life was better in this neatly wrapped take-home experience, but I never saw more clearly than without these colors. An abomination of the chemical kind. A wretched, stillborn invader resuming life in the dreams of the mislead, finding nourishment in deceased passions. A weary monster of the deepest recesses of the imagination as its goal is dissolved. Sadistic goddess of seductive deceit, breathing life into creatures more foul.

I start to sink into the bitter, dampened earth. For once in my pathetic life, there will be no mercy. The irony of a self-proclaimed god, now governed by ashes in his wake; I laugh in the face of my own filthy tendencies.

I now know the meaning of suffering and hopelessness, tossed out into the mouth of a higher power's oceans. I now know the meaning of bitterness and misery, drowned in my own revelation, lulled to sleep by the ocean's motion. Step back into a real train of thought, stare up at the sky to the farthest star. See just how dim it is? I know that I am nothing. Every stretch of distance revealed in brilliant detail as I watch my life in its final moments (I'm still sinking), as I look to emptiness. See the stretch of what I don't know, I only wish to conquer the reaches of this world.

There must be something better than this life of false dependency.

Stand in awe of space before me, realize just how small I am. Maybe this isn't such a bad way to end it all.

I never even felt myself go to sleep.

My mind relapses to the idea of control, universal control. The satisfying whimper of those below me as I destroy worlds secure in the arms of a clandestine revolution. Bring me back. I never even felt myself go to sleep.
Track Name: The End
Forward, into the unknown, conquest to gain control. A mass grave of infinite light and nothing, stretch to infinity. For the good of the ones we already left behind, as if they mattered now. Close encounters with salvation, gross power to abuse. More, more, we are gluttons for the fruit of the labors of the peaceful, the innovative.

No. This journey is for the benefit of all; we are the chosen race. We were granted dominance, and yet we still assert it forcefully in the name of (insert newest trend), but we still care for one another in the name of (insert newest flaw). Will we stay together (or) will we let each other die?

The answer seems obvious at this moment as we travel into the void. I move forward with a sense of security. Nobody will dare touch me, they'll send the whole fleet. Nothing will survive this onslaught (of) waves of loyalists to one another. Successful landings increase morale, justify further the noble cause: seeking wealth, power, (and) sustenance in this desolate world. Competition among friends to decide who lives, who dies. I walk along this cosmic desert under naive impressions, with aspirations of climbing this social ladder. Reach further into the darkness toward the panacea which I seek; reach to glory.

Fall to the ground, my feet caught on the bones of the innocent, the loving, face first into the soil of a mass grave. Every soul a stranger, every face unrecognized, even by their loved ones and their dearest friends. Faces frozen in time, my own body freezes over as I tread on their soil, their resting place. I cannot believe my own remorse at this trivial matter. The dead mean nothing to me.

I walk this planet as a king, the dead mean nothing to me (when) I am awake.

Bodies waking, soil continues to unravel from its slumber. Bodies stand before me, trembling, withered faces, effigies of loss and pity, defeated integuments of hopes and dreams to take me to the grave, usurp my blessings, smile warmly as I'm pulled under.

I run from the grave, not realizing the relief in death. Approach the landing site, everyone is gone. Only I remain, abandoned.

Stranded on this foreign world, I am alone. All alone. This is goodbye to all I loved.

This is the end.