by Soul Phlegm

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The world as we know it has made the transformation into a geometric incarceration: a mechanical wilderness hazardous to ecological security. Gods of industry & economy haunt the very fabric of existence. Life is changing more rapidly than mankind can evolve to adapt to. While machines become our Kings & Masters. The future is intrepid, trite, & technicolor; the past is bones & dust of the human conundrum. What we leave behind in our wake of atomized information overload will not define the future but what history or humanity we have the strength to carry.


released March 3, 2016

Written & produced by Soul Phlegm
Recorded at River Rock Studios
Mixed by Kevin Israel
Mastered by Rare Form Mastering
Art by Isaac & Joseph Ewart, Max Newkirk, & Natalia Araujo



all rights reserved


Soul Phlegm Iowa City, Iowa

Soul Phlegm: a dynamic fusion of blues, soul, funk & rock n roll. Melodic, lyrical, intricate, raw & heavy.

Check out the new music video for "The Will"

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Track Name: Plight of the Working Man
No Easter ham, no Christmas feast
Tell a doctor, tell a lawyer, tell a priest
I've heard this joke before
I've smelled this smoke before
Now I'm down here on my knees
Cut to commercial if you can
Before you wind up missing your head
Melt you into mush
Grind you into sand
The plight of the working man

Boil your bones down into economy stew
Foreclose on your clothes
Evict every part of you
Everyone pretends
But no one understands
The plight of the working man

Step by step
Heave by ho
Someone's always trying to tell you
Which way to go
Mark your territory strong
And sleep with your eyes open wide
Like darkness is your friend
Grandpa warned you to his death
With his very last breath
They'll harvest all your time
Until there's nothing left
You thought the day was at an end
But here it comes again
The plight of the working man
Track Name: God Awful
Angels turn away
When they get a whiff of her virginity
Them mens come out the hill
To get their feed, to get their fill
Of my little love nightmare
My little Jezebel

Spin your little web my little spider
Spin your web a little wider
What you say?
Say it again
Say it with feeling
We're all just starving
For man made garbage
Let the games begin

You walk around like I ain't got a clue
Like I can't smell
The evil things that you do
You say you want lovin'
I say you need perfume
You got that god awful stench on you

You keep talkin' bout freedom
And why?
When ever other stutter you utter is a lie
Note to self: Don't trust humans
Who do you freaky think you foolin'?
Who do you freaky think?
Actin all rinky dinky
Wavin' your stinky pinky
Who do you freaky think you foolin'?
Track Name: The Will
They're going door to door
Preaching the word of the lord
With their raging hearts on
Knock on wood, try to ignore them
Heaven was made for fools
One of the tools of control
For the bourgeoisie
Señor no si puede

Half a man half a monster inside
Every alien nature will
Eternally collide

It's hard to read the will
To the willingly dying
You can waste your languid life
Like an ancient ghost
There is feasibly a reason you can
Find to keep on trying
It's hard to read the will
To the willingly dying

Dying in their homes
and under stairs of endless time
Lost to the crevices of the mind
Writhe, rotting in silent earth since the urchins birth
when the light lost sight of it's listless fires
Track Name: Hark! the Herald Heathens
They found the runaway
With a dirty blade of grass to his name
No class of family could afford
That kind of guilt, grief or shame
It's hard to say what sick
Ridiculous wickedness to blame
But who's to blame anyway?

It's hard to say the history
Or the mystery of deceit
Inventing hellish elephant skeletons
In a dream
Rampaging naked through the streets
Screaming: What does it all mean?

They hide inside the mountain
Dive into the dust
Ride the weary rusted
We say: time is come to bleed the drums dry

A chemical reaction happened In the absence of a brain
The toxic goblins monger fear from a plastic picture frame
The television culture revolution is bullshit
A mechanical priest preaches from the pulpit
The puppets pathetically start pulling their own strings
they can hardly be classified as human beings
There's always money in the mania we believe
We want the truth in a ruthless trash bag
But what does it all mean?
Track Name: The Greatest Bamboozle
The greatest bamboozle
The war over your soul
The essence immortal
Will swallow you whole

The people sleep beneath a veil of hocus pocus
One word against their jihad and they'll unleash the locusts
As someone's whispering god's kaleidoscopic circus
In the ears, on the streets, in the old fashion

The people believe anything from anyone that feeds them
It's a sin to talk about the lost cause of freedom
The future fossils of an archaic kingdom
Spreading fear through the streets In the old fashion

What you believe and what you perceive
Exist in conflicting realms of reality
Every denomination has got something to sell
What you cherish and what you desire
Gonna perish in the lake of fire
I'll buy that fable when the tables turn cold in hell

What would they find?
Under a foreign sun
With a domestic lie
They'll spend eternity burning
Blind as a beggar, never say never
Blind as a beggar forever

And they skinned the animals alive
Out of boredom, out of hunger, out of fear, out of envy
and they let the humans run free in a mechanical wilderness
Unfit to be lived by man
And in their silence they stalk the streets
and they cry: "Don't believe the lie"