All songs written by Lamb Of God
Sony/ATV Songs, LLC/Subtle Arts Of Publishing (BMI)
Produced and Mixed by Machine
Recorded November 10-14, 1998 at Austin enterprises in Clinton, Mass.
Engineered by Steve Austin.
Produced by Steve Austin and Chris Adler
Mastered at M WORKS by Steve Austin
All Music by BURN THE PRIEST except "Duane", by BURN THE PRIEST and Matt Conner
All Lyrics by R. Blythe except "Dimera", by R. Blythe and Judd Prather
Back up vocals on "Suffering Bastard" by Michael Brosan
Extra Vocals/Lyrics at the end of "Resurrection #9" by Steve Austin
Logo by Bob Gorman.
Artwork & Layout by K3n Adams.
Copyright 1999, BURN THE PRIEST
Mikey Brosan, K3n Adams, Steve Austin and everyone who has come out to see us, helped us out on the road, and supported us in any way.
My Family and Friends, Mikey, ZED, The other jerks in BTP (for the good and bad times), Relapse people, All the Freaks in Philly, Rich/Brutal Truth, Clay, Frank and my Chi-Town Posse, Summer Anne (Miss You...), Nawlins Peeps - Alex & Jess, Eye Hate God (R.I.P.), Micah (and anyone else who has been stupid enough to get in the van with us), Ted & Ed (for the whiskey and crib), Carmen Vasquez (for typing and everything else), Braun/Today is the Day (Shut Up Little Man!), All the cool bands that have rocked with us, Black Label Beer and BushmillĖs Irish Whiskey, RVA, and anyone kind/idiotic enough to let me drink their beer, eat their food, crash at their crib, and generally be a nuisance. CHEERS!!!
would like to thank: All y'all motherfuckers!
Sherry G., Mike and Toby, Dez, Goatfish sandwiches, Vanman, JasonĖs Black Hairy Tongue, Micah for the pain and suffering he endured on tour, & Ro.
George Thorogood
Julie Cyr for her support, inspiration, passion and faith; Mikey for believing in us from the start; Baxter and Chip for their tireless friendship; Mark, Abe, Randy and most importantly John for bringing me along for the ride; My family, especially my brother Will for all they have done over the years; Dave and John at Boykins for the hook-up; Mike & Tracy, Noal, Sue, Ian, Metal, Arn, Smoot, Buffy, Skaritza, Partin, Miley, Marty & Kelly, Mike Conway, Billy Williams, Willie Gerbich and everyone else who have helped, supported and guided. Thank you.
band@lamb-of-god.com
Sponsors:
http://www.lamb-of-god.com/sponsors
K3n Adams
www.K3n.com
CD - 1999 Legion
Burn the Priest is Burn the Priest's first and only studio album, released in 1999 by Legion Records, before changing their name to Lamb of God. This was Abe Spear's final album on guitar.
On Mar 22, 2005, it was re-released by Epic Records. The album was remixed and remastered by Colin Richardson, it featured new liner notes by original producer Steve Austin (from heavy metal band, Today Is The Day).
1. Bloodletting
2. Dimera
3. Ressurection #9
4. Goatfish
5. Salvation
6. Lies of Autumn
7. Chronic Auditory Hallucination
8. Suffering Bastard
9. Buckeye
10. Lame
11. Preaching to the Converted
12. Departure Hymn
13. Duane
note: The lyrics for the BTP CD were listed as one huge block of text, with no breaks between songs.
Archaic methods transfer through well in the face of mass denial. Bitterness fuels the mode for the escape of mediocrity. Stepping the grate, shattered nerves ground down to a glass edge carrying me away. Bloodletting a favorite game of solitaire. A suicide mission destined to fail, a moving ladder to climb, taking me away. I wouldn't have it any other way. With just a flick of the opal banded finger I will throw you into a concentric mental decline. I control your elation, I control your depression. I take as I wish memory, clothed in a raiment noir. I take you under my dark wing and nurture you in hate, to dwell forever in a Maison Blanche. Purity through corruption, who am I to blame when your basest instincts are realized? Lay waste torn asunder weak and lost in the past. Obfuscates the self mind, ripped it away. Cobwebs and motes in the eye of a sun god. I think not, serpent get thee behind me. Eradicated your somnambulant enigma. This field has lain fallow, won't erode, won't soak up the sediment from your poisoned mind. No, I won't soak up your misery, won't soak up your weakness, won't soak up your banality. Taste vanadium, wide awake realizing what you've done. Taste the frost, you chose your own death you know that you chose well. I hate myself but not as much as I hate you. Tear yourself down. Ripped out all the options, busted broke still drunk on hubris and the night before. Mechanically destroying the self, pushing. Annihilate, live in the vernacular. Deconstruct through alcohol, pacify with the liquid placebo. Flatline of the cranium, my only wish to destroy. You just met the last motherfucker who truly does not give a fuck...Goatfish. Smothered under your affection, solitude an acquisition, symbiosis turned parasitic. Now I'm starting to regret this, dying to be alone. Bleed me as I'm dying to be alone. A weight on my back a noose around my neck a clot in my veins a worm in my gut all this and more are you. Please leave me alone. I can't breathe air from your mouth I can't move in your embrace I need a void in my life but you've taken all the nothing. As the leaves fall yellowing like aged paper, thoughts turn acrid and curl like cigarette smoke rising from a butt ground out on my arm. Step into this decay and experience dissolution. Crucified on a plank of cruelty, crucified on a plank of apathy to sleep the winter away. Immobile for the cold duration. Huddled in isolation, to sleep the winter away. Picking crumbs from the beards of others, futile organisms with no spine. Human lice with no spine slips into a neural wreck of humanity's rot. Trust ripping away, dying. Your breed is weak, the taste of strength bitter to your palate of doubt. A remnant of what was, once left, a relic you pissed it away. Your breed is weak, a thing so weak. Mutual downslide into mediocrity, you knew better but you pissed it all away. Weak. Shorn of apocryphal pride, the locks falls predicting strife. Cranium exposed, denial of aesthetic. Push it a little further. All of this burnt to ashes, all of this torn to rags. I don't know what the fuck have I become? Synapses snapping mortality decimated. Breakdown whiskey shifts hate into overdrive. Realizing it's murder of self so clean. Hand reaches out desecrates impunity. Ripping away foundation's identity replacing with shame. Transgressions mythologized, indiscretions immortalized. Anger inflamed with dry rot, pushing towards severance. What a bloody mess. Visiting dark sites unknown, grief lands like a ton of bricks. All of this burnt to ashes, all of this torn to rags... Turn on all the light and punch them out. All four burners going, pile it on fire. Metal sparks in the nuclear box. Fist through a window pane and our broken coffee cups litter the kitchen floor. Smoke rolling across the ceiling suck down the bride's champagne and swallow a few more sleepy ones. Pass the bottle to none and swing from the gate. Speak in the name of suffering as loud as it gets. Knuckled holes in everything spittle and love fling into a crying eye that runs away. A dead dog in the street nothing brings a slain king back. You'll never know the bittersweet smell of leaving this world of your own volition. So jacked up. Whine, whine, whine. How can you afford to throw me those looks when you haven't pulled the bloody wool from over your eyes yet? How can you say those things to me when you haven't pulled the boot of the past out of your mouth? Tepid morals personality set for easy calibration knowledge of importance paramount. Marooned a suicidal caste deal with isolation grease the wheels chameleon. Sliding through social strata and yet you still whine. Your conviction is merely iconographic, I'm so sick of hearing you whine shut up. The public wants what the public gets. Lazarus himself wouldn't rise into this world. Decry relativity damned petulant for seeing through a Trojan horse full of zyklon while Judas' coffers overflow. What? New world (dis)order is nothing new. Choking on poison air pouring whiskey into crescent moon lacerations. Time to bite the hand that beats. Teach our children well, teach them to kill. Global jihad for a thousand years. Sanctified our blood spills, sutured with commodities. Iron fist in silken glove ripping away autonomy, replacing with a placebo. Realize that our wounds will never heal while Judas' coffers overflow. We are in this world not of it. Spreading like vermin the last of the breed. Screaming into an urban wind broken glass asphalt undertow trash blows down deserted streets. This organism will survive and breed. Flickering lies glazed cornea creating cerebral corpses. A senseless data overload a prime-time hypnosis bow to idiot box. Self-induced anueretic sty alpha waves flatline encapsulated time tape eraser mind waste away your life. How light could be our darkest hour? None will be left when they come to collect their blood debts. All accounts will run dry, a binary vessel full of nothing but dust. A vicious lust for control has turned us into pawns for faceless kings, shedding rivers of blood turned the color of their lucre greed. Fiscal commandments impel and we obey blindly. The fury of the sun has passed into the hands of men whose hands were already too full of abused strength and anger, of abused strength and power. Bio-economics killing again and again.