Cazador

by Cazador

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Jordan Flayer
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Jordan Flayer This is some seriously brilliant and amazing music right here. Everyone will love it. I guarantee it. Favorite track: General Hearts.
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03:23
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03:27

credits

released May 31, 2013

Josh Boll: Vocals
Angel Compean: Bass
Tanner Soetaert: Keys
Jarrett Austin: Drums
Kyle Saldana: Guitars

Music & titles by AC. Lyrics by JB except 'A Girl's Gotta Eat' (AC/JB).

Produced and mixed by JB.

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Cazador Austin, Texas

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Track Name: General Hearts
I've lost the connection between what I'm asked to believe and the potential for us dust-bound sufferers to define the scenes that purvey guilt in dressed up clouds overhead, pressing prescriptive measures to death.
Feeding with a gentle grasp, assuring you arrive somewhere your old bones will last.
The holy man motors in his very own brand, carting his hard earned, tear etched praying hands. Unfailingly gracious with a serious stare, prodding the prettier girls to come let down their hair.
Spilling interdictive textures, doling out foreboding lectures, we are so goddamn transfixed, inspired to resist ire - the emergence of a self.
Feeding with a gentle grasp, assuring you arrive somewhere your old bones will last.
Track Name: Birthmark
What calls you to wield wills through dreamed things when you yourself don't sleep? Gently furthering our tendency to think that disparate minds won't link.
The malleable pieces that we are slip unnoticed from your sleeve, drawn in the name of security.
When faced with the scars you've rendered, are you stirred to make it all up, or are you proud of the severity of your rape, for what it says about your strength?
We try to dispel the thought that thought itself has been surrendered. We'd rather our brains be fraught with the frivolity self absorption engenders.
The malleable pieces that we are slip unnoticed from your sleeve, drawn in the name of security.
When faced with the scars you've rendered, are you stirred to make it all up, or are you proud of the severity of your rape, for what it says about your strength?
Track Name: Better Not Bring the Kids
Razoring the curtains that you love, the only faith to which you ascribe - heliocentric lenses fogged with the spittle of the arrogant suns.
The window stays so bright but the glow holds a certain derision. You're invested in your plight but it couldn't be further from your mind.
Spare yourself now, you know we're open to new lows. So many elsewhere to choose, to choose.
Connected gentlemen and cartographic whims sporting their legions of synchronized limbs. The extractable value of trust, Imploring insisting: 'my dears you must-'
Spare yourself now, you know we're open to new lows. So many elsewhere to choose, to choose.
I have hope you can divide that you've thus failed to question from the portion beneath other claims. I'm not trying to upset you, but resist if only because it gives me no sleep to be alone among sheep.
Tear at the seams that line your skull. Tear at the seams that fix your wool.
Track Name: A Girl's Gotta Eat
She walks in from the outside scene, the doorway creaks - pregnant with humidity - sold to the stronger hand that wrestles against me. Teeth together locked by the shimmer of steel, draped in a dimpled peel. A sour smile keenly creeps as she whispers: 'I'm going to eat you starting with your feet.'
Each knuckle is a story scaring me to sleep. In a rigid stance buckled up to the allegory. Starting at the cheek, brass rings storm the temples of marrow. Stoic to the altar's light, brushed by the fabric of your arrows.
As she turns back to her tools, I weigh my desertion, but like the worst kind of merchant, I won't leave without urging. Finding the ground in a rush to meet me - relinquished the perplexed martyr: 'In this day what's harder, the struggle or the concrete?'
Darling do you feel the weight of the world in your words? You've heard the power fabricated from my right band, but look how sad these shoulders get, driving boulders to the playwright's plan. Constantly adapt to the aesthetic, removed from meat, but it's still about your parents. Skin stretched, fists clenched, crushing clocks so the elders won't die of sadness as much of old age.
Track Name: Hey Pompeii
I found an old man tethered, he wouldn't share his thoughts, but he had words for the weather. And I begged him to open wide, so I could sit inside his jaws and cry to the tune of an unobserved life, burdened by wings that would rather lie prostrate in the face of birthright than assume a status the wealth defines.
Volatile volition, reticent to be another one to capitalize on the demise of culture like a social vulture - hacking at our patchwork quilted flesh. Homogeneity claims the rhythms in our chests.
I found an old man tethered, he wouldn't share his thoughts, but he had words for the weather. I found an old man tethered, he told me I was lost and it was he that knew better.
Holding a rank fails to yield a purpose once the ship has sank. Winning stone hearts to watch the drown their owners when the dismantling starts.
We don't need another.
The features of the faceless fold furrows to fall between in anonymity.
I found an old man tethered, he wouldn't share his thoughts, but he had words for the weather. I found an old man tethered, he told me I was lost and it was he that knew better.