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released December 12, 2012

Thoroughbred Racing Pigeon is:
Mark Raso, Evan Jamieson, Corey Salloway and Jayme Hagen.
All words and music by Thoroughbred Racing Pigeon.
Recorded over the summer of 2012 at Viral Audio Studios by Jamie Ferland.
Artwork and design by Erik Grice.
Mastering by Stu McKillop at Rain City Recording.



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Thoroughbred Racing Pigeon Edmonton, Alberta

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Track Name: Pigeons
Pestilence in flight. Met with disgust and spite. Contemptuous. We wander like beggars. Disease-ridden. Exiled. We wander in packs through the city's streets. Searching for reasons, no such thing as defeat. We stick together so we're not alone. This barren landscape. These streets we roam.
Track Name: The Tribe
Betrayed. We make our escape. Head towards the coast. This island's not safe. Crashing through the bushes, heading towards the sea. Tonight we chase the horizon, take our chance to stay free. The ocean will become our road as we sail into the unknown. We'll find land or forever we'll float, but for now, this boat is home. A shaky truce. We payed our dues. It wasn't enough. The prophecies rang true. This island is all in the world that we know. Cut loose those old ties, cast off and row. The world is blue from the waves below to where they embrace the sky. The colours shift in swirling hues, until the end of time. No turning back now. A great storm approaches. Under God's foot now, we scurry like roaches. Ravaged by the sea. We followed stars wherever they'd lead. Blistered by the sun, our muscles can't recall how it feels to run. In the distance land is visible, a faint spot at first. This taste of land sparks an unquenchable thirst. Paddle hard. We're nearly there brothers. Our old lives end as we begin another.
Track Name: Discovery and Compromise
Touting a useless line, discovery and compromise. There's a foggy vision with so many eyes. Useful things discovered, unfortunately recovered by an ancient system that never separated: our mortality from fear, from burning endlessly in the blazes of hell -- In God's furious rage. Where saying sorry, paying the collection fee, gave you freedom to be a circle of shame. And, yea, I know their stories have merit. I know their morals are strong. Just don't tell me we have to be nice, saying their history isn't wrong. I find irony in bringing a useless system back from the stone ages, back to the times. I find irony in finding guidance by filling your head up with lies. Were the slaves and workers of the sabbath the homosexuals of today?And, yea, I know their stories have merit. I know their morals are strong. Just don't tell me we have to be nice, saying their history isn't wrong. I don't want to be a prick, but why not? Irrationals say God gives you the luck you've got. They say without God there is no meaning. It's through him, he's the only way. I feel myself screaming inside. Don't you know it's in your books and scriptures – is where your head hides.
Track Name: Endeavocil
I slowly return to consciousness on the drive home. I should've taken one more pill. It's difficult to explain Endeavocil, like a blackout with no loss of cognitive thought or motor skill. A beautiful numbness, an escape from my meaningless workplace. If feeling good is not an option, I'd rather feel nothing instead. I haven't worked in over a month, not on the drug. I can't go back. Some blackouts take longer than others. I'm starting to wish I'd never come back. This waking life is haunting me. I've punched in and out for the last time. I don't want to come back. An unforeseen consequence of perpetual bliss. Last night I woke with a razor blade to my wrist. I fade in fast, the transition is seamless. I'm going to give my life, lived awake, another chance. But it was too much, it was too cold, too cruel. This world was not meant for me and I relapsed. I say goodbye to being in charge of my own life. I pop the pill. Now I roll the dice.
Track Name: Sonderkommando
They've been shut down, broke down, turned around. They wear their alienation in ragged clothes and hopeless frowns. I see a little piece of them dying everyday, but I'm ordered to never turn them away. One more day in the bane of my existence, one more day under the soul eater's smear. Finally I found a little courage, finally I can see the end is near. They come in with hands full of metal, an overdue fix to settle. In me, they have a shot at relief, but it's waning, fading, meeting them down the drain. How desperate a situation, how silent is their plea. When they leave I gotta clean the room, get rid of any disease. Oh, I know what I'm doing. I'm well aware. I had my chance to leave and break free, but I chose to stay here. 'Cause I'm the middle man. I'm the life taker. When they leave I gotta clean the room, gotta get rid of all my deeds. And drag them down with me. The footsteps behind have turned black. All the more reason to never turn back. I see the pain in those people everyday. I see their struggle to turn them away. It's been a long road to freedom. A lot of years spent devoid of freedom. A weight's been lifted from my back. A changed man stands in front of you at last. Finally one of these chances has stuck with me. Finally I'm determined to take the lead. Hopefully now everyone can see, I'm not forever defined by my deeds.
Track Name: Peons
Unskilled labour trade. Faithful peon obeys. No other option for pay. At least it's not minimum wage. I had different dreams for life, without rank and order in mind. But, I'm still putting in time. Most days I'm alright. Digging holes into the earth to make someone else rich. Down on all fours for table scraps. "You're lucky you have work, you son of a bitch." How can one person's work be worth so much more? At what point does our income become us? Many say I'm pathetic. Why the fuck can't I make it? Opportunities aren't taken. "Where's your career orientation?" Well, that kind of life ain't for me, filling in quotas for pay sheets. Keep the site clean. I'm toiling daily for nothing. "It's a dog-eat-dog world and I'm gonna take what's mine. There's money to be made. Don't stop pushing, not on company time." There's not much difference between me and the machines. We both show up day after day at the next worksite. I'll continue to punch in late. Not because I don't know better, but because I can't be bothered. I know this game is fucked, these pipes are all corroded. Streamline your efficiency, downsize your staff. Make yourself useful, forget how to laugh. You keep the headache, you keep the cash. I'll keep my pride and my sore back. Forget your old interests, there's no time for that. Breathe in that diesel, you'll learn to love the smell.
Track Name: Monster
Like a living corpse looking at the doctor. With his diagnosis, he'd sealed his fate. But their was no fear in his eyes. There was no terror on his face. He tried to smile through the news while the tears fell from his parent's cheeks. He'd never let them know how he struggled. He took it all standing on his feet. He made a vow that very night, he'd never let that news become him. He's never let it overshadow who he'd been. Though he never spoke to me about how he suffered and he never broke down and screamed, I'll scream it now, I'll scream it for him: You fucking monster, you took everything.