Demo 2010

by They As In Them

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    Free dl of our debut demo written and recorded in 2010 @ Earth Capital studios in Los Angeles, CA




some songs we wrote in 09/10
demo recorded @ Earth Capital w/ Alex Extrada

They as in Them:
Ivan Diaz-Drums
Jose Roldan-Guitar
Gregory Rivera-Guitar
Michael Edwards-Vocals


released January 11, 2010

for a compressed file of the album:



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They As In Them Los Angeles, California

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Track Name: Nineteen-Seventeen

In the wake of the enlightened mind
Lost in progress
Afraid of disillusion; idle thought
We sow the seeds of the modern man

Dead tongues (relics found in noise)
Black lungs (breathing underground)
No Soul (existential void)

Culture's fractured frame
Choices choked by ghosts of our father's hands

In their absence we've become victims of circumstance
Burn the shrine, tear the roots, sever ties
Fear the future, open eyes

Culture's fractured frame
Track Name: Orchid

We fumigate the world of false hope
It's fading on the front lines
The peaceniks had their say but the pugilists will always win

They'll have their way with what is left
Vultures chomping at the bit
Fighting for the souls and last laments

Until the end is the end, all that is left
and men become one with the soil
Sod for the seeds that our grandfathers swallowed
and the orchid that grows from their chest

We kicked ashes into the face of the dying albatross
We chased rats from the crop that the middleman harvested and
forced them to choke on the fruit that housed our regrets

We dug their caskets up and launched them into outer space

Everything has its place
Track Name: Soft Machines
Soft Machines

Last to read between lines
First to function under pretense
Force the will of the blind
Falter under the weight

Exile before collapse
Compose the final hymn
Play dead for the bastards fading in the foreground
and the shepard that gnaws at your heel

Pantomime death through electric lines
The motion to break the still
A pain that beats your brain to pulp
Fodder for the rumor mill
Track Name: Blue Period
Blue Period

Above the stone it stains it's horns
Echoes from the pale horse
Three days without the Son
Fuck the crown the child holds

Classical minds, the great decay beneath green skies
Sunken teeth halt subversive progress

Drunken rhetoric, caustic thought breeds blank canvas
Blank faces = Tabula Rasa

Vultures that feed on science and charity

Roots burst blue through loose soil
The formless regain structure
The musicians remove their masks
Mend the frame amid the ruin

The girl has found her place before the mirror
Withered fingers, weathered wood, fragile notes
Alas, the woman weeps
And the peasants rest their heads