Survivor's Guilt

by Too Late The Hero

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released June 15, 2017

Produced by Too Late The Hero
Engineered and Mixed by Kevin Billingslea
Additional Engineering by Jake Wertman
Additional vocal engineering by Duncan Cook
Awesomized by Josh Wilbur
Recorded and mixed at The Halo in Windham, Maine
Design and Layout by Sarah McLean
Photography by Cait Bourgault

Too Late The Hero is

Kevin “Ya Boi Kev” Billingslea - Guitar
Duncan “Dunky” Cook - Bass & Backing Vocals
Jack “Dirk” Stolz - Guitar & Backing Vocals
Rick “Downeast Dick” Verrill - Drums
Jared “Djawid” Wilbur - Vocals



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Too Late The Hero Maine, Maine

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Track Name: DIY Prison Cells
Safe behind your made-up wall. Refusing sleep and collecting your fluids in jars. Ignore the noise outside. In these adverse conditions you buried your dreams. Doesn't look at all like you wanted. We've been immortalized. If you cut up the stories, destroy the unwanted, we will find our supposed identities. Like a madman on film, it’s spread out on the walls. Full of promise, now it's dull and lifeless. The closer I get to this keyhole I've been staring through, field of vision expands and now you cannot hide. It's beautiful outside. So starve, and rake in dividends from your patented, cynical, bitter faith. Spit out wads of gray paper, you're so goddamn lucky to be unhappy. Perspective is the curse of the blessed. The closer I get to the abstract calling out our names, the colors all dissolve. It doesn't look quite right, but it's beautiful outside. It all looks stark when your eyes are open; prismatic when they're closed tight. Bury your head, hold onto the lies I never said. Get out.
Track Name: What Did You Know, And When Did You Know It?
What was said under duress; what was shouted out of context cut me deeper. From the divides - surging and reeling - for all the progress we’ve made. We’re spitting hate from candles in caves; inhaling chemicals we create. Buried in lye - rusted and peeling - the palace is your tomb oxidized. Your former glory flaking away; muscle and bone buckle under the weight. Cutting my feet on broken glass, a clean reminder of a bloody past. You see crimson, but your feet dig deeper. Cutting my feet on broken glass, a weak denial of thoughtlessness. Blood on the tracks, a man can’t progress if he won’t look back. We disunite - quietly screaming - for all the anguish we claim. We point the blame to sewers and strays. We burn alive, it’s better that way. Blood on the tracks; feet on the glass. Straight to the vein, the lies we put to test. Take it back. Burn on the outside, we doubt the lives we put to rest. Take it back. Can't take it back. Take back. Glass formed from grains of sand, and sharpened by the fire, cut me deeper. What was shouted out of context cut me deeper.
Track Name: All Your Favorite Lines
Far from where we stood, you were the one who argued validation. As we rummage through discarded limbs for righteous hands. Stand up and take a bow. You pulled a fast one, made us all forget everything we've said and done. Lock eyes and bite the belt. We've tried hot iron, bore open flame, still these wounds won't cauterize. I should have rationed out all my apologies, before I lost the taste for them. Under an oppressive light, August standing on my chest. Tear these wings from my back; feel my pulse and check for breath. It's too late for me, not who you are but what you've done. Complacency. No good will come of this. Faced with the harm I've caused, we're moving too fast, to make out the faces flying passed this speeding freight train. I've packed my sharpest suit. My friends are all dying or getting married. Endless delight for our fair cynics. I try so hard, cave my own head in, to pay for my past of vindictive slut shaming. Mindful and empty-handed, relegated to the past tense.
Track Name: Royal Blood Loss
We’re holding for a chance to breathe, tightly bound left to consume. They pull the rope as we suggest, bright ideas in a dark room. Searching through the alcove; where I kept what was most precious, most fragile. Focus, we’re ascending towards you. I can’t believe you said you’d follow me down, again. So far out, I can barely see the face on the screen. I can’t believe you said you’d follow me down, again. When every back is turned, you drift, “He won't leave well enough alone.” It’s not so bad when we admit we kinda love all they don’t condone. Mud and brick to seal what was. Now I understand, I’m just something you grow out of. Staring from the outside and you're looking past my ghost, before it walks away. You warm this home so much more; more than I ever did. You're fighting back again, so certain it’s a gruesome end for a gentle creature.
Track Name: Ghouls & Ghosts
You don’t understand, how someone like me defines morality. Do I believe in nothing greater than myself? Would you believe it’s only empathy? Gracious blasphemy. Each cracked rib is a lesson learned. You forged your heart through fear conditioning, but I want to care. I need to care. Bound and gagged, we’re seeking shelter. So I reach across, and I promise I will find a way out. Proud exclusion, false cathedrals. Grab ahold, and I promise I will find a way out for you. You fetishize your suffering; your martyr’s better than theirs. You say without the living word, you’d rape and kill. I can’t accept the fluid nature you’ve attached to truth. Yet, I have more faith in you than you have in yourself. Believe in me like I believe in you. My question is, did you really have to be told not to hate? Strict devotion to irrational rationale. This is the price; the price of sleeping in. Savor novelty. I wish I could explain to you why I don’t want be saved. If I don’t believe in god than I don’t believe in heaven or hell. It’s just you and me.
Track Name: Hometown Idiopathy
Disgusted and attracted by the opulence. You fooled us twice now, best five out of seven. Oh it’s not that complicated if you would just for once pay attention. It's almost dawn; our symptoms are starting to show. In a red-eared fever, you play fast and loose with the slurs that get lost in the frenzy. We both used to believe we were in this together, I guess that you knew better. You turned your back on conviction, then you picked a new name, a new face, a self-serving self-mockery. Where did we divide? We’re better than this. Same town, same friends, same past, same life. Burn it all so there's nothing to analyze. I remain sanguine, not naive. You grab a hold of distinctions, and you wring out a caustic liquid. I'll never understand how you embrace an ugly lexicon, while you possess a working knowledge of the impact and the struggle. There's no turning back from a carpet bomb. A frail goodbye to a broken bottle blood brother.
Track Name: Full Bleed
It travels down and then it pains. It’s scribbled out before it flies out of sight. This all unravels, and spirals: an endless string. This crowd is seething and heaving onto this plane. This all unravels, and travels: an endless string. This crowd is seething and heaving onto this plane. And I’ll find the right to entrench the rage. It’s all sorted out: the scent, the gate, the malleable age. And I’ll find the right to retrace the nave. It’s all sorted out: the scent, the gate, the malleable age. The rhythm draws to entropy. I’ve memorized this serrated serenade. And I’ll find the right to silence the bane. It’s all sorted out: the scent, the gate, the malleable age. And I’ll find the right to scour the fiend. It’s all sorted out: the scent, the gate, the malleable age. Full bleed, you can’t save me. My time, my hell, my name, my cage. I’m free again. Full bleed, you can't save me. And I’ll find the right to retrace the nave. It’s all sorted out: the scent, the gate, the malleable age. This all unravels, an endless string, and I’ll sort it out.
Track Name: Old Growth
My roots dig deep. Thorn in mind, the cold divides; providing eyes the blind desire. Brown and green, the stems of leaves; igniting fire in the damp debris. The wood becomes my skin. The bark’s sharp, scratching from within. My roots dig, dependency is eating at me. My roots dig deep. Your home built from my body. Torn limb for limb, you’re safe and sound; I’m torn off and burned. Bathed in ash, embrace design. Will decays, baptized in mire. Scale and length, the structure fails. Count the rings. Sulfur weighs the air. Your home built from my body. Torn limb for limb, you’re safe and sound; I’m torn off and burned. My hardened core of solid ore. Stone of skin, you're safe and sound; I'm hollowed out and burned.
Track Name: Oscar Bait
What if I could stay right here, under glass? I would gladly let you add to your collection of burns on my arms. A neurotic excuse to build distance from the side of the bed, and it expands beyond belief. And every self-destructive bad habit, a cherished gift from you. Gray, sallow remnant of a beautiful facade; singing to me, “Death is when the real fun starts.” Raise my hand to my throat, I can't breathe in here. The siren's near. Never, I never had to lie, and you're pulling books from the shelves to remind me, you never gave me a choice. Never, you never asked me why, in reverence, I still drag this behind me. I never had a choice. I don't blame you; if you'd let me I'd take more. This siren sound is our swan song. I'm in the back of the van drowning in cold survivor's guilt. And every poison look you throw my way, a cherished gift. Who’s singing who to sleep? Now you're just a pale, dead, gray face singing to me, “Death is when the real fun starts.” Raise my hand to my throat. I can't breathe in here, because now I’m drowning in cold survivor’s guilt.
Track Name: A New Spin On Stockholm Syndrome
Our history, you forcefully redefine. But as for me? I disrespectfully decline. Convinced by your jailer; your cellmate is why you are detained. Screamed into messages passed through the bars. Swallow every line, ravenous. Dazed by the right hook, now spit out your teeth and your common sense on the floor. You mourn the days when you could smash a face, and righteously stand. Won’t let you take back what you stole, but never lost. Cultivate fables to justify. Force-fed bile to my friends. To no good end; to the worst end. To no good end, we submit. To no good end, to the worst end. Now don’t let me be the catalyst. Where were you when the trouble started? Pass the guilt from filthy hands to clean. There’s a price on the fateful faithless. No rest till your victimhood’s pristine. Oh, we’re so obscene. Pray for another God-fearing fuck. Missionary and degrading.