Killing Time // Disposable Life

by Weapon Y/Z

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Two albums on one CD-R

    Tracks 1-7
    Killing Time

    Tracks 8 - 20
    Disposable Life

    Includes unlimited streaming of Killing Time // Disposable Life via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    edition of 5 

      $2 USD or more 


  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Two albums on one tape. Killing Time and Disposable Life.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Killing Time // Disposable Life via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    edition of 5  1 remaining

      $4 USD or more 




Heavy raw paranoid electronics dense with vocal ramblings on sex, consumerism, the media, and more from one man laptop abuse act Weapon Y/Z. This release is actually a combination of two previous albums released as download only.

Tracks 1 - 7
Killing Time

Tracks 8 - 20
Disposable Life

Disposable Life originally debuted on Grindcore Karaoke.

We have 5 copies of this on CD-R and cassette. If we're sold out just check out the artists page and buy some directly from him.


released June 14, 2013




Trench Gun Tapes Greenville, South Carolina

TGT is a one man music label based in South Carolina in the United States. I like to release collectibles and tapes. Thanks for visiting! Enjoy some music!

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Track Name: Pushing Boundaries (I'll Have What He's Having)
Monday Tuesday I'm on top. Wednesday Thursday I never stop and on Friday Saturday through Sunday I still PUSH. Day to day. This is my way and until the feeling goes away I hope but not pray that it won't decay I just PUSH. I'm going to paint this town every color but red. Yeah, my plans have already been made. Driving fast cause I'm gonna get laid. With my foot on the accelerator like the mighty masturbator. PUSH. Crash and burn if I don't win the race. Smoking weed to blow off my face. I'm in the fast lane for today, I PUSH. My all-consuming self only ever wanted to make something different, not unmake the same nihilistic repetition. If you're disappointed in this album blame the vectors of shooting stars above. The last one was about fucking, this one is about making love. When they serve you your meal and it tastes unreal show them all so they'll say, "I'll have what he's having." Yeah, when they watch you eat shit you gotta grin through it. You gotta make 'em say, "I'll have what he's having." When the food is laced with poison the dinner party's gonna die. Brittle bodies will expire as immortality passes by. It's my own private death cult, I'm the last one who survived. Another day I'm pushing boundaries, once again I'm counting time.
Track Name: Adults
Old friends, new friends, everybody comes and goes and it shows I suppose yeah everybody knows it's just time after time what's the difference after time? Inflating nickels into dimes. What is yours and what is mine? I wanna drop into the world of yesterday. Reliving vivid memories but now we've reached the legal drinking age. Let's see what 'normal' people see. We hit town to find a bar but I don't want to anymore. $3.00 for a mystery beer? Fuck that shit lets hit the store! Drinking on the boyscout trail. Steel Reserve tall boys. Smoking till our lungs fail. Lost in the background noise. Are we adults now? Old friends, new friends, everybody strikes a pose and it's all so controlled yeah everybody knows it's just time after time changing clothes but that's fine because the skin is still mine and the organs inside just run on the fumes that i need to consume from the doom and the gloom of the crisis on the news and what's new? I just want to watch cartoons, and yell about the things that piss me off but that's non-productive. It's so seductively eruptive. It grows into a ruptured throat. Did you read the manufacturer's guide? Listening to that loud music makes you deaf in time so grow up, grow up, my new friends say. Do drugs, do drugs, my old friends stay. Time after time what's the difference after time? Are we adults now?
Track Name: System Decomposition
Who gave you the authority to prioritize minority in a politics blanket category with your dogma watermarked allegory? Yeah fuck that, I just want to sin and so i walk the left hand path again and I'll become that Antichrist you condemn. It's us versus them. They all start closing in. Red states and blue men. It's us versus them. Their words gouge your ears like fake dubstep. Offensive anal orally defining what it means to be a human in a societary argument in name of things that don't exist and so you'll never comprehend. "The end is nigh!" you always shout. When in doubt look around but never look out. The sun excludes my excuse, now prove yours. Go! Who gave you the authority to sanction my conformity and document my sanctimony in a useless conventional allegory? Yeah fuck that, we'll undermine your superstitions? Your tradition in submission so you're sending our sedition to remission in exhibition to prove predisposition well, I hope that you convinced them. Your system is decomposition, bring the system back to the source. Build it back. Take it back. Who gave them the authority on every breathing human being? Red states and blue men. It's us versus them.
Track Name: Momentum
Life just keeps on moving in a constant pace straight line. I wanna yell "Stop the clock!" and take back what is mine. Go! It's a round connection to the point that kills your soul in the hours when you sacrifice yourself for. Life takes such supporting at an alarming consumption rate. You can't yell "Stop the clock!" or your end up precious seconds late. Life just keeps on moving at a rapid tempo beat. There's no net distance travelled daily on these repaved city streets. The ivy slips around your feet so regularly. The kudzu doesn't take your holidays. Life just keeps on moving in a constant pace straight line. I wanna yell "Stop the clock!" And take back what is mine. Even for a second to stretch into a minute, for an hour to have the power just to spend it. Even for a second to beckon Dionysus to listen to my wishes for more wishes. For that ultimate blessing or curse, the suspense is killing me. Life just keeps on moving towards the throne of Father Time and then he yells "Stop the clock!" and he takes what once was mine.
Track Name: RESET
Insert coin - Credit player one. Life's a fucking arcade machine. You're born with zero points as pixels form your joints in smaller pieces on a video screen. And there's no way to win. The levels never end. Every cycle is the same damn thing. Speed increased by difficulty I play that shit on hard. Ruby Weapon sandstorm braving, spitting fire like a Charizard. You're a one destined to become a zero. Break the fourth wall and hit the reset switch. RESET RESET planet earth RESET RESET all mankind RESET To the title screen big bang. RESET At the collapse of everything. RESET and format the memory. Cut the system! Kill everything! I'm just a well programmed machine. My routine is clean of bugs and run-time errors, much better than the town drunk slipping out. The ant loop spiral dying out of exhaustion. Explain experience and the moments as I lost them. It's just a game, It's just a game. Just numbers and math, I can understand that. Just zeros and ones, one more life and I'm done.
Track Name: Vultures
You're just one year too late to stop these insects from infesting you. We're besting you when we try to multiply. We're undressing right in front your eyes. Down to size. Try to run but you can't hide. Y/Z chase you inside and when you thought no one was looking, yeah, you'd try to get a taste? And when you tried your best? You activated the hornet's nest. Your timid attacks don't impact on my radar. Tag me an enabler. Moonshine for invertebrates. Spineless twists don't vex me like this anymore. I'm through with this but I guess I'm the only one, but I'll humor you I think it's kind of dumb but it's funny, and I like the control so you can do it anyway. You're just one year too late to stop these insects from infesting your brain you insane migraine detained slave to a day to day calculation refrain. While I'm no better off in the eyes of the world, I've got sense and standards and room for just one grudge: an homage to a wimp who didn't have what it took. A self indulgent ego inflation black book. And when I do my worst, I won't do anything at all. Lead you on in the most passive context. Offer the honey from my queen bee throne hive hexagon. You're gone again? It figures. Who would spend a dime of time on your lame life? The vultures when you're dead, but put that off for as long as you can. You entertain me in morbid ways, make me complete again.
Track Name: Counting Time, Killing Time
Tonight, today, the seconds just fade. As I count them by no number is the same and I kill them all, but the bodies won't stay. Counting time, killing time. Synchronized with past lives. The endless cycle of supplies to keep the people in a line and wall them up on the inside. It's a full time commitment to the endless wave and you aren't prepared even though you're trained. Yelling louder but you can't be saved from this damn desk job this day to day. Scream! but you can't leave. Counting time. Let's get this over with. All jacked up on coffee and weed. Fill your wants and needs automatically. Just eight and a half hours till you're finally free. Was that the second person? I was talking about me. Data is a commodity. Probing questions collect like sodomy and the minutes are clogged in your arteries that take hours to clear from the years of disease. Scream! but you can't leave. Counting Time. Let's get this over with. Scream! Count the casualties. Killing Time. Tonight, today, the seconds just fade. As I count them by no number is the same and I kill them all, but the bodies won't stay. Counting time, killing time. Tonight the way that I live I say is all about staying entertained and then I'll rejoin that day-to-day-to-day. Counting time. Killing time today. Wrong number, system glitch. Missed call, misprint. Line testing, count them up. Feedback noise, the call was dropped. Identity theft pregnancy. Take this burden with broken knees, legs sprawled at obtuse degrees. I cut the cord to your misdeeds. That baby became ours to care. [Time] marked by inches of uncut hair. Never help but always stare. Yeah, was that burden mine to bear? Population genocide. Spent the seconds sent to life. Who's to blame? the fault was mine. I'm a murderer just killing time. Tonight, today, the seconds just fade and as I'm looking back this was the only way. I killed them all, the memories I've made. Counting Time, Killing Time. Tonight, will die and in that way tonight, mortality is ours to claim. Tonight, we fight against the fact that it will fade. You can't count you can't kill the ever-flowing stream of time. You can't count you can't kill the singularity of life.
Track Name: After Hours (The Hedonistic Calculus)
Off the clock we need to grab some beers. Yeah tonight we're gonna get drunk as hell and we should smoke a bowl. Lets go back to your place. Or fuck it man. lets just smoke it now! No time to waste. Make no mistake. It's ours to take. Reclaim the moment. Living with no ambition or obligation. We're the most joyfully frustrated. The guy on the eighth floor has kick ass shrooms. I heard there's a party tonight in his room. That bitch who works the coffee shop can get MDMA. If you really want cocaine it's in the basement of the library. The drugs will make you feel in place. It's yours to take. Reclaim the moment. Infecting inside it's growing you're knowing that what you learned is that your time isn't free after all... the only thing you wanted was control... to make every moment turn out like this time that was bought for you for free as a courtesy for being brought into this world with luck. You're still fucked because you never asked for this. You're putting up with some shit and it could be much worse. Yeah. The worst of it: Relativity is a bitch and you're sick of it but you can't control it. You think of it but you can't even behold it. In the thick of it you're never free from the shadow of the man you wanted to be. Cling to life like a huddled mass, while you pour yourself another glass.
Track Name: Buried
You're just a piece of trash. Circling the drain, like my blood sweat and pubic hair. Burned at the steak, like a Satan spoiled bitch. Don't ever mistake your free time for witchcraft. Cause that's the going rate, for your finite life. Reaching the same conclusion but you just can't shake the illusion. Delusion confusion just ruins your outlook out of luck fucked in the dump. The landfill trashhill cemetery coffin symposium is your grave resting place the end of days. You used up all your time and now the value's gone to waste. "I'm in the grave? I'm buried? I can't be dead! Why me?" You're just a piece of trash. Crawling the gutter like mutation sludge disease with negative lifelines you sustain as you sleaze. We always think "it won't happen to me" so throw yourself at the bar and grab another drink.
Track Name: Cheers (O, O, X, X)
Too many X's, not enough O's. I'm suffocating on this closed off mindblock. Too many hours that I can't control. All i ever wanted was the power... to buy my life back. Fight your fears - the placebos -> your mind. Circle circle, CROSS CROSS in a tic-tac-toe stalemate draw game eternal fate repetitive day overwriting my loss. Yeah. Check the records my intentions overwritten now never stated. Fight your fears - the placebos -> your mind. Draw a perfect circle every time. Just try to draw a perfect circle, you'll fail every time. You're unsure of yourself but that's only in your mind. So crumple up another piece of paper and toss it to the garbage incinerator. Down an elevator shaft to the last bastion of trash before it's cast into the hellfire flames of wrath. Like the empty bottle that you just threw out and the next cold one you're about to down.
Track Name: Disposable World
Throwing it all away. I just can't take it any more. I've got a million good reasons to give up right now. I just can't take it any more. I've got so much of it pent up and shit it's starting to come out. So throw it out. I just don't care any more. Disposable world, disposable life. I just don't give a fuck any more and I don't care about the future I just care about tonight. So throw it out. Because i can't stand tragedy, just throw it out. Before death gets the best of me, just throw it out. In the long run i thought I could only do this for so long. You already lost your second to stop and think and it's time to have another drink.
Track Name: Exoskeleton
You are a deviation from the hive. A separation small part of a grand design. Stay in line and follow the pheromones. Your own life is disposable. Shed your skin for the queen. Shaped into the ultimate drone. You're changed into a slave ant you lost your soul. Shed your skin for the queen. You just do it for the nectar.
Track Name: From the Void
From the void you are formed in it's image. Existence in itself is a remarkable feat. Making purpose with a life is just redundancy. From the void you lose your zen. Intricate designs lack the utility. (inspire you to stray) Facing fluctuations from the sea. (black and white make grey) From the void you lose your zen and then they win when they exploit the fact that you don't understand the needs and wants for what you lack. Molding holy spheres that were thrown perfect from the void. A thoughtless perfect symbol of the world that was destroyed. Turning into fixtures just like cogs in the machine. From nothing came existence arbitrations of the scene. [From nothing came existence and now that's all it'll ever be.] Invited to break thresholds with stimuli. You gained one and two in exchange for your third eye. And there's just a vague desire to reascend. (disgust for what you've become) Transcendent beings trapped by mortal skin. (and desires of the flesh)
Track Name: God & Garbage Man
Who is the man with the pious uniform? Cleaning the rubbish from utopian suburbs, someone has to do this job. Who is the man with designer robot claws? Disposing of things indiscriminate. The final death of right and wrong. Cast the unbelievers to the fate of the deceiver and scrape the remainder into a prophesized container. 15,000 miles cubed is the size of this golden walled post-death city. The gates won't let you in or out. It's a paradise prison that you'll never leave. Who is the man with pariahs at his feet? Condemning their deeds with graceful ease. You can feel their faults as he collects them up and casts the unbelievers to the pit of discarded hopes and traps the redeemers. Genocide of tomorrow. 15,000 miles cubed is the size of this golden barred post-death city. The gates won't let you run or exit. It's a paradise prison just keep telling yourself it's a paradise paradise paradise. It's a paradise prison, just keep telling yourself it's a paradise. This is zen. This is what I wanted most. Trapped in an afterlife one way or another. No one really had control. Win? Did I win? Will I feel this way again? A supply of liquor makes the time go quicker but it never comes to a fucking end.
Track Name: Hell At My Feet
I go for each moment still not swallowed in the black. I always march forward but I also watch my back. I look forward to a lot of things, but still I can't retreat with the future at my face and hell at my feet. Run through the mud with the man at your back. You've got nowhere to call home and few possessions packed. No plans for tomorrow, little hope for tonight but yeah you pray to heavy metal cause you know you'll have to fight. And you lose it more as you try to find a solution to replace the function you corrupt. It's the formula to keep your mind. This Hedonistic Calculus - ADD IT UP. Run through the mud with the man at your back. You've got nowhere to call home (YOU FUCKING BUM). Inhibitions never stopped you once you never gave a fuck. If you're looking for approval you'll get none. Someday I'm gonna die but won't we all in time? Who wants to live forever? That'd be boring if you tried and hell I'm capable of so much but yeah first I'll stop and think and I think what I mean is I'll have another drink.
Track Name: Idiot Music
It's just fucking noise!!! A wise man once said, "too fast? my ass!" so blast last tempo on the scroll speed. Bad ideas mixed up with good weed indeed speed speed I need to GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! You can't keep up, it's just fucking noise!!! So drink, yeah I'll drink when I get the chance and make shitty music with machines and sleep and repeat to make money so i can afford to drink and sleep, drink, repeat and daydream of more sleep.
Track Name: Just Because
(Condescending inquiry wielded by spiteful tongues.) Awake and question why you're fighting with Weapon Y. You don't have the answers and that's standard now. You'd fight back if you only knew how. You can't explain yourself. You don't know why. You don't care any more, and it's starting to show but you'll avoid confrontation at any cost. This is how I'm thwarting Weapon Y: Spit back in your face. Have a taste. Your questions shoot the whys and I block them with a phrase but "just because" is not an answer its two words that just fill space. This is how I'm thwarting Weapon Y: Tell them "just because" you owe them no explanation.
Track Name: Kleptomania
You lost every possession you ever owned before you even gained them. You soiled with contempt the laurels that you did and didn't earn. You lost every possession you could have owned. How does it feel to not be born a royal heir? How does it feel to not be born a billionaire? You lost the potential. You're a human. You made it so close. Capable of thought but not able to reach beyond in the last epoch of time but the change is still too far and most of us will stay behind. You lost the future you could have owned.
Track Name: Libido Lot
Let's do it now. Let's do it on the floor. Yeah you want it more. You want it from me. Can't you feel this ecstasy? You want more. You want it digital hardcore. You want a taste of something different from the radio whores. You just want sex. You want more, more, more and more's exactly what you'll get. When we do it fuck I'll last. I've got endurance I've got breath so what's left? Just an asshole open to my bass end kicks and the beat that sticks. You want sex but you're not gonna get it. You want. You need. Your sex drive is one thing that you didn't get a chance to plan. This is your lot you're dealt your hand. Libido machine - Your drive to achieve. Because if you don't get a fuck then do you really give a fuck? Drink another one for the dancers and prostitutes. Teasing your libido so at least you feel something.
Why is the world so full of assholes? Why do we all just disagree? (I'm trying to connect with you so tune in to my frequency.) Pirate sound. Digital. Underground. Uncompromising for whatever shit I'm worth. Untouchable in LMMS sequencer sound. This sound MAXXXXXXXXXes out my maniac curse. I wanna live! (I wanna live!) Until I die! (Until I die!) And the track goes like this: Reaching for the hook and claw into your mouth from my mouth that you think won't stop this mouth to mouth. Exchanging poison from my tongue. I'm a secret agent now you're done. I won. I'm in their archives. Yeah. I've infested their data. For every bad time comes a good time like a pendulum swing. Overwhelming if you try to take in everything. Me? I don't get worked up over any fucking thing because what does it really matter if it doesn't make you scream with pleasure? Because instead of "just because" you have a reason and it falls to primal instinct. Weapon Y is one "Why" that you'd rather face weak than lose another moment to Weapon Z: "Sleep" Why is the world so full of assholes? Yeah God, Garbage Man, clean this shit flash from the pan.