The Voyeur

by Jack Dump

supported by
/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

      name your price

     

1.
02:53
2.
3.
02:52
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
02:41
11.
03:44
12.
03:41

about

I can see you. I am everywhere. And you're okay with that.

credits

released June 26, 2016

Everything - Jack Dump

tags

license

about

Jack Dump Toronto, Ontario

Jack Dump ascends into Rainbow Jackson, the caustic Demiurge.

contact / help

Contact Jack Dump

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: 2D You
I’ve seen you.
Well, only a part of you.
Only a slice.
Only an angle.
Only the surface.
Absent was warmth.
Absent was texture,
But still there was you.

2D You.

It’s an approximation
You’re not really as
The machine sees it,
But something close enough,
At least for how I
Use the material.
I wish you were really her,
But I can easily settle for

2D You.

And you’re still there,
But you’re not really there
Because you’re frozen
In ones and nothings.
And you will age.
And you will suffer.
And you will die,
Which is why you can’t compare to

2D You.
Track Name: Keyhole Matte
There’s a door in the hallway that is locked from within
And the curious face is such a fountain of sin
When the focusing Iris condenses the space
And the slice of the victim is accrued by the

Face. Celluloid’s burning up because my keyhole matte
Exposes all the filth that dwells behind the door.
That dwells behind the door. That dwells behind the door.

There’s a room in the Pentagon where people decide
How to spin growing numbers of vet suicides.
At least I think it exists because the comfort provided
By conspiracy fantasies will help me

Abide in revealing powers given to me by my keyhole matte
‘Cause I can change the world. Yeah, I can change the world.
I won’t change the world. I think I’ll just lie down.

The waiter’s bored at 3 am in the hotel
And from that fellow’s room a noise begins to swell.
His boredom shreds away at privacy’s resolve
Until he witnesses and yearns to get involved.

I can watch you forever with an editing swipe.
I can change implications by the frames that I type
And I can laugh at the prospect that I’ll never be seen
When I’m framing the footage on the ebony

Screen. Gurgling from the innards of my keyhole matte
Is a solitary man doing something wrong.
Doing something wrong. Doing something wrong.
Track Name: Metadata
He left something behind at the hardware store.
It wasn’t his glasses or his dignity.
It was a geographic position
And it got beamed into infinity.

The rays from the satellite went to
A harried NSA bureaucrat
Who assumed that the information
Was revealing a terror attack.

Metadata
Paints a portrait of his habits as he spends willingly with his Diner’s Club card.
Metadata
Will be used by the Feds to eventually make sure his body is charred.

She booked her Yoga class online
Because she’s healthy and efficient.
She didn’t think much of it.
Like that information is significant.

That’s what she thought at the trial
As the evidence showed her path
Ensuring her criminal identity
Partially because of that Yoga class.

Metadata
Paints a portrait of her habits engaging the convenience of the Internet Age
Metadata
Gets her wriggling from the outside in the comforting confines of a government cage.

We carry on like it’s nothing
Because the eyeballs are invisible.
Sure they can’t peer in the mental,
But they can see into the physical.

They can prove our intent from our purchases.
Who needs twelve buckets of fertilizer?
Innocence based on your spending
From the taxpayer’s supervisor.

Metadata
Paints a portrait of our habits careening toward our Orwellian fate
Metadata
Is the way we can kill all potential unrest in our glorious state.
Track Name: Trading Handjobs for Safety
There came a laugh from the high collared man as he stumbled around in the pitch.
Eyeing the glass of the centipede past, he indulged in the Belgium of kitsch.

Foam came out the corners of his mouth and receded like a quivering eel.
Tried to lap up the freedom, just to vomit the sorrow.

Speaking in tongues to the funeral fire ‘cause the fungus is now in his brain.
Mold on the roof of his mouth and the tooth that came loose ‘cause of general disdain.

Dirty epithets of a painful bent emanate from his pretty little mouth,
Spilling out on the walkway, congealing fat in the freezer.

He’s holding back the tears, so salty like the Dead Sea.
A baby crowning from his navel points his wicked eye towards me.

Children are cheerful when he comes along. He’s a surrogate for fantasies.
Parade around town like a liberal clown ‘cause he’s found a profound sense of peace.

I regret the days I never spent with my sons and daughter doing meth.
It’s too bad they’re in juvie, trading handjobs for safety.
Track Name: Sweet Paranoia
Sweet paranoia fuels the waking hours with an urgent tension.
The screams of duty spawn a million mouths too hideous to mention.

Can’t you hear that train a-comin’?
Hit the ground and start a-runnin’
‘Cause the hand of fate’s summoned
Softly.
If you don’t feel pins a-prickin’,
You will drown as the plot thickens.
One mistake and your soul is stricken
Awfully.

Sweet paranoia turns the characters that move me into heroes.
They choose between an arbitrary set of tiny ones and zeroes.

And I watch the heightened fiction
Filled with witty fightin’ diction.
Can I make a bold prediction
This season?

I can hear the sirens wailin’
And the systematic failin’.
Call Russia and let’s go sailin’
To treason.

Men made out of gingerbread are fucking on the lawn again
In suits of black and aviator sunglasses they say
“Come with us and you’ll be safe. We’ll walk through fields of candy canes
And mandatory minimums are no concern today.”
Track Name: You Belong to Me
Ignore the rooms that seem mysterious.
Master leads you to imperious
Anomalies ‘cause you belong to me.

Noose and collar form professional
Services that are confessional.
A parody ‘cause you belong to me.

I could strike a slave and feel marvelous.
Opening palms with my artfulness.
The faces all the same.
No one but yourself to blame.

Kill yourself. Transcend the physical.
All other options are despicable.
A surety ‘cause you belong to me.

Breach Nirvana with a tommy gun,
Paperclips and lots of chewing gum.
A fantasy ‘cause you belong to me.
Centuries of debt are hanging over you.
Take a step back to a sober view.
The bondage built you up
Even though your soul’s corrupt.

Ownership is fleeting like the wind.
All possessions watch how you have sinned
So readily ‘cause you belong to me.

Objects, tchotchkes, crap and souvenirs.
Their screams of violence fall like human tears.
Can you believe that you belong to me?
Track Name: Society Faggot
Broken dreams of a rainbow world
Where identity is the capital you trade in every
Day into night like the shifting lungs of
Consumer joy breathing out a shallow wind of vast
Contempt for us like the screaming mass of the tumormen
Overpopulating all the cities
Venal spawn of the excrement seems kinda fun
So I’ll travel to that golden son

Society faggot, society faggot, society faggot
Let’s get married
Society faggot, society faggot, society faggot
Let’s join the army
Society faggot, society faggot, society faggot
Let’s adopt a Chinese baby
Society faggot, society faggot, society faggot
Let’s go shopping!

Miserable like a sitcom wife in the
Seventh season hoping this is not the end of her career
It’s true they discard you fast
When the trend has passed which is why the sisterhood must stay
Ahead of the game in a constant race
With the demagogues of the rank and fickle fashion industry
We govern all the taste and import the slaves
To make the garments with their kids

Paralyzed too afraid to act
‘Cause I have no tact navigating all the arguments
Against my styles it’s so scandalous that a
Vandal’s piss could contaminate my shroud of luxury
I don’t wanna think about all the
Bodies needed to create my morning coffee glass
I wish I knew when I took a wife
From the basic life I’d become the dumb consumer class
Track Name: Unfuck My Heart
You tried and tried to destroy my mind
With your words of darkness and shit
And soon you clawed through my stoic façade
And you cast me into the pit.
I burned and yelped for the days you helped
To find a loving rapport,
But your romance was cancerous
Right to its blighted core.

Unfuck my heart.
Scoop up the dump that you took on it
And wipe it down
To remove your scorn.
Unfuck my soul.
Fill up the holes that you left behind
With your razor cock
Leaving my flesh torn.

The way you mate is manipulating
Gullible tongues of fools.
Your countenance of false penance
Turns strong men into tools.
The pure holocaust of your lies are embossed
On the paper of my brain.
Won’t you hear my pleas and reverse your deeds
Before I go insane?

You’re a sociopath and Sylvia Plath
Would have some choice phrases for you.
She’d say she’d known despair but that’s nothing compared
To the vile things that you do.
Track Name: Haunt You
Centuries of the laughing have drained you
Now the feeling of guilt entertains you
Scores of the phantom whispers will flood your head
You’ll never find peace as long as we’re all dead.

‘Cause you know we’re gonna haunt you.

Your ego split into a million sins.
Your penitence has yet to begin.

You chose a life that we know is not allowed.
You should enjoy it ‘cause this is forever now.
Track Name: The Guddreon
Hell is gray. The fire is fluorescent and it buzzes like a pestilence of flies.
Windowless, boardrooms and water coolers dot the stagnant shitscape of the skies.

The Guddreon is a fortress at the center of your throat designed to filter out the truth we try to hide.
Your overbearing weakness to submit to circumstance is what the Guddreon does to keep us all inside.

Gravity. It’s amplified in here because they want your flesh tolls to the ground.
Fell it squirm soon all your skin will shudder past your feet into a sea of brown.
Track Name: Queasy
I’m so disappointed in you. You went seven weeks without the dry heaves. You thought they were physical symptoms, but once the stressful period ended, they never manifested again. You then realized that the nausea you felt was all in your head. You didn’t know what was worse. Secretly you were praying that the source of the sickness was some sort of ulcer. Instead it appears that you’re so fucked in the head that your anxiety compels you to meet every morning with a chorus of retching. And I thought you were on the path to normalcy. But nope, you’re mentally ill, which is far uglier than an ulcer because there is no cure and people will not so secretly see you as a burden. Those disdainful eyes leering with a combination of pity and disgust. You know the look because it’s the same one you give to the homeless. You have become very aware of how people react to you and it makes you

Queasy. A motherfucker gets
Queasy. A motherfucker gets
Queasy. A motherfucker gets
Queasy. A motherfucker gets, a motherfucker gets,
A motherfucker gets, a motherfucker gets
Queasy.
Why do you react this way? Everyone else seems to cope just fine. Why are you so weak? Why were you built with brain that forces you to vomit under even the slightest pressure? You know your roommates can hear you every morning. At first they wer concerned for your well-being, but now they’re just irritated by the sound of your spewing guts. You can sense their ire. You apologize and the say ‘no problem’, but you can tell it’s half-hearted and coloured by the weariness that comes from living with you. Your body’s definitely trying to tell you that you’re not cut out to live in this world and the disease will strengthen its resolve and created an abdominal push so strong that you will become inside out. As the blood explodes from your oral cavity you have a profound sense of rightness and the bowels flying from your moth belie the gravity of your epiphany.