The Reformation

by The Reformation

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credits

released August 18, 2011

All tracks composed by K. Brower/F. Carneiro/M. Penco/C. Schneider except track 3 by M. Penco/K. Brower/C. Schneider/F. Carneiro/B. Jackson/T. Evans

The Reformation:
Caroline Schneider - Vocals
Matt Penco - Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals
Kyle Brower - Drums, Vocals
Fred Carneiro - Bass Guitar

Produced and Engineered by Matt Penco
Recorded from April 29, 2009 through July 3, 2011
Mixed from April 29, 2009 through July 25, 2011

Copyright © 2011 The Reformation / ℗ 2011 The Reformation.
All selections published by Reformationsongs, LLC (ASCAP). Used by permission.
Album artwork derived from the Fabian Window (designed by George Bernard Shaw) and released under public domain.
WARNING: All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable laws.

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The Reformation

The Reformation is a progressive rock band formed in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 2010. They have released two albums and their upcoming EP will be released in 2017. They are an independent act seeking a record label that will assist in promotion and distribution. ... more

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Track Name: Sweet Redemption
Vote “Yes” for your local representative
Routine gig with the President of Sin
A little taste, get your raise in exclamatory ways
Sweet redemption from your number one fan

Full of soul, it's Rock and Roll
Bury the hatchet and all self control

A job well done and a pat on the back
For making it count, hell, you've sure got the knack
No possible blanks or Russian Roulette
It's constant progression, a massive attack

Lose your mind, it's rare you'll find it
Cosmos is shaking and planets align

Feed it, you need it, no thoughts could precede it
Your fortune is telling, what else but to read it
You're caught in emotional fills and display
What better to do than get carried away?
Track Name: Mechanical Blues
Baby you bring me back
Keeping your cold grip around me
Got a case of the blues

Watching you
Doing all them stone cold things you do
Trying to get the hell out of dodge
Well you know its nothin' new
Keep my hopes high, but what's the use?
Say it again, yeah it's the blues

Guilt stricken in familiar fashion
Dissect all the who, what, wheres, and whens
There's no finger on the trigger now
Sometimes it's all gonna have to depend on
When the next train leaves the station
Does the time match your frame?
Lock it up in a trunk in the basement, you could even forget its name

Take some notes, take a gander
It might have been harder to explain
Paths been crossed, ties now cut
Now who’s left that cake out in the rain?
Voids full to the brim and remove all of the doubt
Past contention, forgot to mention you're quite easy to do without

The lies are what you crave, baby
Just some lines wrapped in Lord knows what
In order to save your own skin
But in the end, a back hand for your troubled heart

What you got is what you gave
It's true, it's what you gave
You know it's what you gave
That's right, it's what you gave
Don't lie, it's what you gave

Nothing
Track Name: Between Two Times
Succinct and square amongst an ebbing flow
Marching on in rapid fire like an addiction to the cause
Seconds etched in our faces
A burden crowding each and every space
Trapped behind the glass
Watch the masses move just so

They cry, they deny
But why can't they see between the two lines?
You cry, you lie
But why can't I see between the two lines,
Between the two times?

Petrified old fixture cemented into time
Bicentennial of the humble town
Its future cast in stone
Loyal to an onslaught of year after year
Roads ending where they start
And, “What could have been,” is a long accepted lie

They cry, they deny
But why can't they see between the two lines?
You cry, you lie
But why can't I see between the two lines,
Between the two times of our lives?
Track Name: Ghost House Funk
Well ya know it's a Ghost House when ya hear that dirty funk
(That dirty funk)
Funkin' up the Ghost House (make it)
Everybody get down (naked)
Well ya know it's a Ghost House when ya hear that dirty funk
(You're gettin' drunk)
Funkin' up the Ghost House (move it)
Said hear ya, let me hear ya now

Have you heard about the Ghost House on the corner of Groove and Funk?
It's not much on the outside, but inside they're gettin' drunk
There's a broken disco ball for a knocker on the door
But you'll meet some groovy spirits if you hit that funky floor

There's a gang of ghostly ghouls teachin' all tha chicks how ta swang
Once you taste that dirty punch then you can kick yo' nasty thang
You can barely move a muscle with all the bitches in the room
But remind yourself that the women are dead, it's a filthy, sexy tomb

Now you've raged up in the Ghost House, damn near lost your funky mind
Then your soul drains out your body as your teeth begin to grind
You can hardly feel your flesh melt off 'cause you're so fuckin' crunk
So fall in line, yeah you're a slave unto the Ghost House Funk

Keep it funky now, shake it down, spank it up
We're comin' up on the (Ghost House, baby)
Ghost House Funk
Track Name: The Rhythm of Fate
Part I

What's the matter with burning bridges?
The distinction of when to draw the line
Once the metronome finds its rhythm
“My God,” you cry, “Where goes the time?”
Stumbling ‘round in a pitch black room
Ever wonder when fate will come to call?
Building walls up on all four sides
Now when will they crumble and fall?

Graying and desperate to move
If only the path seemed right
And the seasons methodically change

And those on the right track sneer at who's gone left
Turning up their noses and striking a pose
Those simple pleasures, well, they never existed
And there you are, on the journey, alone
Excellence, you say?
What a novel idea 
Well, which definition is presently in use?
Because old Webster fell flat on his elementary ass
With a hesitant honesty showing it's all just a ruse


Part II

It's a long road, can't you feel it?
A continuous struggle nonetheless
With points of view revealed and a manic public to impress
“It's a matter of pride,” they say
But no action taken at the time
Just a brush with authority and their thrill in killing the vibe

Graying and desperate to move
If only the path seemed right
It never quite seemed so deranged

Wallow behind a friendly vale in a torrential storm of, “What’s this?”
“How’s that?”
And, “Your quota is too low”
Caught again in an act of friendly idle chatter
Where a normal, comfortable gate is entirely too slow
The realization comes a few years too late
When titles mean nothing but same wage, less slack
Then the big man on campus gladly comes a-calling
Put on a good show or he'll want his money back