Galactic Circle

by Family Values

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about

Physical copies are coming soon. Limited edition tape run coming though Annoy & Destroy.

Thanks to Brad, Hugh, Mitch, Kurt, Joel, Jess, Ashleigh, Cosmo, Annoy & Destroy, The 100, Tura Satana, and BMHC. Joe Anderson for recording, mixing, mastering, and taking a photo of a hat. Anyone who has put us on a show, or bought some merch/music. Dru's neighbours for only telling us to shut up a handful of times. We'd like to thank all the excellent women in the scene in both Newcastle and abroad.

credits

released 10 July 2014

Recorded/Mixed/Mastered by Joe Andersons
Cover & Art by Joe Andersons

Tegan - Vocals
Nic - Guitar
Dru - Drums
Spencer - Bass

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: I Should Have Gotten Off At Crackton
I’ve got self control, I’m keeping calm
I’ve got self control
It’s early, I’m hungover and the bus goes slower and slower
But my headphones broke
And theres no escape
Another pram comes on
Another guy I hate

I’ll turn this bus around
I’ll crash it into the ground
No more bogan wives
No more drunken fights.
Track Name: No Remorse
Fuck the courts, fuck the cops
Law in your hands, rapists get shot

Kill a rapist
No remorse
Authorized use of deadly force
Kill a rapist
No remorse
Remove the problem at the source

They’ll do it again
Gotta get stopped,
No second chances, the hammer is cocked.

Kill a rapist
No remorse
Authorized use of deadly force
Kill a rapist
No remorse
Remove the problem at the source

Never again.
Track Name: Punchin' In (Proletarian Anthem For The 21st Century)
Punchin’ in, Pinchin’ off
Always shitting on the clock
Wanna shit on my boss
Because I hate this fucking job.

Punchin’ in, pinchin’ off
Aways shitting on the clock
I will not wash my hands
Arseholes take what they can.
Track Name: Bring Me Hot Chips
Getting pissed getting queasy,
Only one thing can appease me
I’m hungry for something greasy
Something quick, something easy.
Eating meat’s for selfish fucks
I just want some fried up spuds

Bring me hot chips

Fuck your burgers, fuck your wings
I only want one thing
It doesn't come in steaks, fingers or strips
Just bring me some hot chips
Track Name: Letter To The Editor
Lost your birth right, so full of spite
(There's no justice, lost all free speech)
You never had what you should of inherited
It was stolen by the liberals and feminists
I’m sorry for what you had to go through,

Poor fucking you.

I’ll say what I want
It’s me against the world

Wipe your eyes on the dampened privilege
Sense of entitlement ingrained

Seems all the white straight men have left is the lower house and Murdoch press
You can’t stop slurring under your breath,
"The world got too politically correct"
So you rendered it a four letter word to protect everything archaic and absurd
Every stupid opinion and jest
Quit pretending your so fucking oppressed
Track Name: Done
A parasite buried in my mind
Eating at every thought at every line
That they might reoccur in time
Another regret in a rising tide

Fuck off I am done this

Of either negative selective memory
Or a portrait of a broken slate
Projected on dark walls in darker hours
As I will my conscience to dissipate

I am fucking done with this.
Track Name: Tura Satana
Don’t talk to me about respect
Did you think I wouldn’t object
You’re not entitled to touch my body
Who are you to think that I’m weak?
It’s not just on the streets
It’s in the churches and the Liberal seat
Back against the wall and I’ve had enough
Nowhere to turn, who can I trust?

I’ll fight them all
Till I can’t swing anymore, till my knuckles are raw
I want to make them bleed
I want to make you bleed