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How Much More Can You Take?

by Minimum Rage

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1.
Minimum Rage 02:11
Have you had enough? Are you satisfied? Have you had enough of living lies? Are you gonna grow out of this child-like stage? Do you need a vent for your minimum rage? I’ve earned my minimum, my minimum rage. You’ve earned your minimum, your minimum rage. Cops kill; money wins A-bombs are a threat again. Pence electrodes on your balls Xenophobes want a wall No fair pay for you No health insurance No more public schools No working sewers Tax the poor, let the corporates rule No regulations, we’re a Christian state. How much more can you take?
2.
What's Wrong 01:33
Taking a look around me, I can’t believe my eyes. We’re obsessed with nationalism, propaganda, lies. Calling for a use of force at every chance we get. These days everyone’s the other; everyone’s a threat. What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What’s wrong with this country What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What’s wrong with you and me What ever happened to honesty and respect? I mourn the death of empathy What the fuck is wrong with us? What’s wrong with the USA? We have this freedom of speech, but just hear what we say. How’s humility a sign of weakness? How’s struggling a shame? We’re all pointing the fingers, polarizing the blame
3.
Swimming 01:14
Your look of disappointment is cutting me in half No way to mitigate the damage in my path. No break in the weather, and, the roof, it always leaks I spew out contradictions at every word I speak. Am I losing my grip or am I letting go? So sick of swimming upstream. One day I’ll grow up, and I’ll learn to be mellow. And I’ll stop swimming upstream.
4.
Market Place 01:28
Praise Jesus over lunch rubbing elbows with power. Swing a contract or two as you pass the breadsticks. Praise Jesus in the Market Place rubbing elbows with power. All our deals are done in the name of the lord. So connected, so respected, and everything is blessed. Call the shots in the Market Place, making deals and saying grace. Power brokers in the name of God. County bigshots playing God. Ain’t discreet the way they meet, but you and I ain’t invited. Connections made, and who gets paid? By Jesus Christ, we’re united. We’re brothers, so forget the others—Christian nepotism. Praise Jesus in the Market place, rubbing elbows with power. All our deals are done in the name of the lord. Praise Jesus for the people here. Bless all of us haves We don’t need the heathens, but they need us. All our deals are done in the name of the lord.
5.
Nation 01:05
Kid can’t sit still, so you give him a pill. ‘night ‘night, son, have some benydryl. Soldier guards poppies praying he won’t die Seventeen years of war just slipping by We can’t pull out of Afghanistan The opiates are our master plan Stuck in the silk road the reason’s vague Feeding production of a nation’s plague Sam Stone waiting to go home Marble-eyed white-collar pill heads Street corner zombies—casualties of a Drug war you wouldn’t die for Drug war, how many years more? USA. A nation of junkies. Another fix just for kicks
6.
We Lose 01:12
You win; I lose. I’m gone. I did it again lost a lover, lost a friend. I never wanted it this way. Don’t know how to act, don’t know what to say. I’ll I do is hurt—hurt you, hurt me, hurt us. But you won’t feel better when I’m gone. And I won’t feel better when I’m gone You’re right I’m wrong. Is this an isolated fight, or don’t we get along Fucked up again lost a lover, lost a friend. Find myself saying sorry, find myself at fault. I know it doesn’t matter what I meant to do. Why mention my intentions? They don’t mean a thing. All I ever wanted to do was right by you. All I ever do is wrong. So long.
7.
I saw myself the other day. I took one look and looked away. I swear this place will never change. We don’t judge weird. We don’t judge strange You’re free to look, but don’t you stare. Pot clouds floating through the air. I swear this place is really great, “Hey, man, wanna surf or skate.” I love my neighborhood, Chitaqua Beach I love my neighborhood Surf Ghetto
8.
Spencer gets attention Need I have to mention The man who plays the victim just generates hate. Open up the waste dump Get the Nazis all pumped Adoration of Trump Race lines running the state Make the rally massive Agitate the passive Orchestrate the clashes Southern White Proud Get into your Charger Small man feeling larger Gonna be a martyr Mow down a crowd Alt right lives don’t matter to me, Baiting defenders of liberty Radical middle says to take a knee Alt right lives don’t matter to me
9.
Swindle 00:48
It’s much too big, sluggish, and slow to change I cannot alter it. I cannot rearrange I crawled inside, infiltrating for change I was merely a part of the bureaucratic swindle The bureaucrats so high and in charge. They control every aspect You try your best but you know They’ve got you by the balls I was inside fighting for change I was merely a part of the bureaucratic swindle
10.
Thieves 02:20
Opportunist in the dead of night Needs a ride, so he steals a bike Mommy worked long for that Christmas gift I hope you burn in Hell, you fucking piece of shit I hate thieves. Don’t steal from me You’re no Robin Hood. You do no good Property’s theft, but what if you earn it? Who the fuck are you to come and take it? Not supposed to take what don’t belong to you How’d that lesson get lost on you?
11.
Stars N Bars 02:17
And you waive that flag to represent your hate And you use that flag to show the world your hate And hate dictates your every decision And hate creates your history’s revision Make America great again for a mannerless yankee You don’t represent the South, and you don’t stand for me Mamma and Jesus surely can’t be proud Stars and Bars for your racist bigot crowd I see your flag pull up at the Kangaroo. Half drunk again scorin’ some peanuts and some brew I stand in line behind you, and my eyes are glued I can’t take them off of your swastika tattoo

about

Recorded January 2018 by Rob Mcgregor @ Goldentone Studio.

Cover photo by Alan Mills.

Harmonica on track 11 "Stars N Bars" by Rob Mcgregor.

Released by Mecca Records
MR01

credits

released April 20, 2018

We'd like to thank all of our friends and family, the southeastern United States and punk rock.

Minimum Rage is:
Jeremy Rogers - bass
Cole Helman - guitar
Jacob Hamilton - drums
John Blackford - vox

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Minimum Rage St. Augustine, Florida

Jacob, Cole, John, Jeremy. St. Augustine Punk Rock n' Roll

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