Strapping Young Lad : Heavy as a Really Heavy Thing

Technical Thrash / Canada
(1995 - Century Media)
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I am the coming of a new age
Past your shit by far
I was a puzzle in your sick life
But will never be a piece anymore
Because I worked through your fucking bullshit
And I worked through your fucking lies
Now I'm working on the edge
With a thousand times the stress
So I can damn you down to size

I worked in your fucking warehouse
I worked in your fucking dream
I worked on the edge of the product community
And found that nothing's what it seemed
I fucking hate you....

Devy worked in the corner of the piss yard
Bored and plagued by pain
Devy got a taste of the corporate community
And never went back again

I worked for you fucking bastards
I worked for your fucking lies
I went and pissed away too many fucking opportunities
To try and make you fuckers feel right
And I fucking hate you....

I am the coming of a new age
Stained we still stand tall
I am the coming of a new age
And I will never fall
I bear the questions of a new time
Seen but never heard
I've seen the comings of a new time, get ready...
'Cause here it comes

Pushing your incompetence
And racial views aside
And never now
Until death again, is there anywhere to... hide
It starts here my friends
My brothers and sisters
The courage to show what is brave, and not be weakened
To stand it through, by any length
To look into the eyes
And have the strength of men who say "fuck you"
I won't do what you tell me...
I don't care who you are...
I'll never stop believing
And I'll never be the one who takes the heat in the name
Of the remorse that isn't pushed into a hole
Waiting now, and packing down
Into the open spaces we must go and not be frightened
As children we came
As children we go
So never look behind you, never look behind... "fuck you"
It isn't a decision...
It's a sign of greater things...
And a loss will never matter...

In the Rainy Season

He's trying
To tempt me, take me, down me, rape me, fuck her...
Fuck yourself, you'll never take me live
Goddamn this sun
Go, he's not the one

Take this away... July, July, July
Bring me rain

Keep calm
These are only just illusions
And whatever has been said
It has now gone completely wrong
But keep your head, don't freak...
Keep your eyes upon the road
And just don't think about that room... Oh holy fuck
Oh holy fuck, oh holy fuck

Goddamn this heat
Christ, goddamn this shit
Take this away... July, July, July
Bring me rain

He said "I know that you know that I am the one"
"You know that I've found a way..."
Don't die on me, don't leave me alone!!!
Give me this chance and I'll make it the last
I will never succumb
I will never succumb

Come rain down
Down, down, down...


Work expectations bind the holy to the wrong
Reflecting what they'll never be
Sing out, pay out another day has come and gone
Get used to the feeling of rotting

Just watch it, goat boy
You watch it, you're a goat

Down in the rust steel yard a goat boy loses limb
No need to feed old nan and kids
Old buck he pumps it up, to keep his life from getting low
Then back to compo when he's home

Just watch the goat boy
Just watch it, you're a goat
Let me hear the goat boy talk!
Don't judge me, goat boy
You watch it, you're a goat

Cod Metal King

Bleeding hearts will never stop
What bleeding lips will start, I'll make your mother
Take your friends, and take your hands
And ride the feeding cart...

Your little dreams are nothing now
Your dreams are nothing to me, I'll make another
Piece from all the crap around and keep the best for me
I seem never to get the message through
That shit should mean something to you
I tell you brother, it's easy to hold the imaging
Of the cod metal king

Falling, we're falling... Back at beginnings
Don't mean a thing when you come to the cod metal king
You can't deny the power of the millions who are weak
They never bother to take a look
At what it takes, to get us through the sheep

3 am
I drive alone
I drive where no one will follow me
I keep it low
Inside my coat
I keep it there for me
And I can't believe
We've pass the point
I can't believe we're through, I take another
Look around
And track it down
And disease was right in you

Happy Camper (Carpe B.U.M.)

You pretentious fucking losers
You've got nothing at all
You've got your fingers in your asshole
And your hand on the call
And you talk such fucking horseshit
That it's hard to believe
That you almost make careers out of being naive

You, you are a fucker 'cause you sold my guitar
You, you are a fucker, seeking fortune in bars
You, you are a fucker, 'cause you say such stupid shit
I've got a better line in pocket lint
That what you've done with it

So if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend
Then get your ass in music, you'll be set to the end, ending
And now you've got the nerve to ask me about my temper?
Why yes, I have become a fucking happy camper!

I hate your fucking faces and your trendy cut hair
I hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere
Because its use is just the same as what I shit into the bowl
Just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole
I hate your loser friends who only come out when it's right
I hate that when it's down you run instead of fight

I'm set to think your lot in life to test the stronger ones
Will just require some chicken shit and also sneakers for the run
I dig it away, the shit you puked instead of swallowed
In an attempt to try and find the dick instead of the load
So when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper
And yes, I will become a fucking happy camper!

Stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane
Wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again
Where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick
Your flaw will send, the shit you call your business
To the place that is your end
Stuck in the winter, cold and wet
Your stupid friends have come and went
And you're left behind with your idiot job
And it's far from a prize, you fucking dink
... you're a fucking dink... yeah!'s this for punk? Dink!
...suck my cock, you pathetic excuse for a human being

... you're a neurotic, homophobic, racist dork... You've also got a lot of balls to dick with someone else's life, you fucking pseudo ghetto "boy in the hood" middle class white spoiled rotten bored "gangsta" wanna-be hunk of regenerated red neck bullshit! Thank Christ you don't have to rely on that staggering intellect or dynamic personality to intimidate others, shit for brains. Shut the fuck up, and get out of your parents' house and get a real job, you putz, and for god's sake, quit being such a fucking sheep!!! Now grow the hell up!!!

I let it get me down because you're in it for the glory
And I'd rather leave with reason than go dying for a story
And this whole L.A. Rock thing
That the malls are buying up
It doesn't work, it doesn't work
It's so inbred I might throw up...

And now I'm put into the middle
With the contracts and the bunk, and I always end up
Hearing, "hey, man, punk... Let's have more punk!"
So here I am to do a favour, save some hassle kiss and tell
That either way my music's shit and it ain't ever going to sell
So if you've got the gall to take this shit blown up your ass
And you've got the cash and balls to pump the same crap out in mass
Then hell, I'll stand aside and with your plans I'll never tamper
I'll sit and write you songs and be a fucking happy camper

Yeah, send me out a contract and in clauses you will lurk
The smaller points so I can give it all and save you work
You say an album's not an album without issues left to hamper...
Well then, fuck
...I guess I am a fucking


All is calm, and all is right
You took the call, you took the fight
I'm finished here, I'm on the next
This time, this time, this time, this time, you call

All you are, is all you are
All is cold, and all is dead
It's time, it's time, I need, I need you


Help me end my nights here
And help me get this water clear
All is calm and all is lost
You call, you call, you call, you call me


Critic... You're the critic... You're the critic
In the night I lay awake
I know it's cheating baby
But I know I have a right
And in the dawn I see the question
A bleeding wrong forcing right
Sometimes night I can't stop thinking
And I'm calling it a soul strike

The Filler -- Sweet City Jesus

I warned you
I want you...
I've come back for you
Go, now, far
I wait in the rain for her, stop? No...
I'm quite calm, calm, come, come, calm down
I wait your pal, life equals death, love equals death
So, you are...

Tell me, I'm your filler boy
So, you are
Call me, I'm your filler
Sill girl, spit it out
We are trying slowly...
Still we try...

Fucking it
Pushing you
Loving life
Packing down
Packing love
Pushing you...
Into you...
Loving life...
Pushing you
Rushing you... Bruising you

All these calls and rotting lies
Packing down to the bobby girl
"I woke up... I woke up to reach daddy-o"
Will she come?

Pushing now
Pushing love
Pushing you...
Pushing you
Pushing you
Pushing you
So... You are...

You can tell me, who's your filler now?
All I am, helped me, I'm the filler

Skin Me

Sit here
Blue light
Washed out
Pin me up and boil
Welcome to the wrong me...
Silent filter

Sucks in the resting
Posture frozen god
Hungry muted nations me...

It's just a feeling I have
It's like a feeling of death
You can't be in it for the cash
You must be in it for life
And if your houes I need
And if the payment is real
And if your mind is at ease
That is the death of music


I watch the way you move
And I count by the way you press your eyes
And by the little things that put you down
Ride the rails to where you are -- help me thank you all
Let me fuck you all, and by the way you bitch and masturbate
The bold ones carry on and on the way your prayer comes up
And have fun -- the way to carry on

I'm a dog, I know, I'm a dog

It's the only way, it's the corner stay
Push the freight along and grant them all their little
Goddamn shitty things
In the light it grows, slower than before
"Ten-four, they've got to burn, the 9.3 will come to carry on..."

Gimme some of your good loving
I need your good loving
Dog, I'm a dog, I know I'm a dog
I'm a dog, I know I'm a dog...

Oh, Elvis, yer just standin' there and completely naked
And I's jest thinkin' to m'self
"Goddamn-it boy! You've come a quite a little while for
Such a little country doggie..."
And now it's touching himself in private
How many people do you know who can make it through
Life without ever buying a goddamn vowel

Satan's Ice Cream Truck
Words and music © 1995 Devin Townsend

C'mon little kiddies
Have I got a treat for you
At first it tastes all yummy

Then you start to turn blue

I'll be back again next week
Bring your friends, we'll have an ice cream treat
Mom don't like it, but he don't give a fuck
Kids come running for Satan's ice cream truck

Come on, and ask your mommy
Your pennies are in hand
If you need more than your tummy
You can get inside my van

I'll be back again next week
Bring your friends, we'll have an ice cream treat
Mom don't like it, but he don't give a fuck
Kids come running for Satan's ice cream truck

Japan (bonus track on some editions)

Time waits for no one
No holy saviour came again
It's here now, my old friend
And it's time to go home...
Back to the stars
Now I know how it sounds
But I know how I feel
And this boredom kicks into the aligned
The invisible and the divine
And the lights upon the hill at night
They have followed me young
And into tomorrow

No time for you
Time alone
This time I think I've found it
Goodbye my love
It came for me
I'm going back to Japan

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