Holistic Rapture

by The Snakes

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The end of the world is nigh and the best artists of all time are being raptured from us by the day. So now you're stuck with us and our music. Sorry, not sorry.


released May 26, 2016

Zach Tipton - bass (& lead vocals on The End Is Coming)
Aaron Smith - drums (& lead vocals on Jet Plane)
Mikki Scorpion - guitar (& lead vocals on Irish and Garden of Eden)

All music written and performed by the Snakes;
The End Is Coming and Jet Plane - words by Aaron Smith
(That's What You Get For) Drinking With The Irish - words and music by Mikki Scorpion and Rayna Terror
Garden of Eden - words by Mikki Scorpion

Produced by Joe Tessone at Mystery Street Recording Company, Chicago, IL.

Cover photo by Carol Briggs.

Special thanks to Sandra Carter and Caz Glancy for introducing us, and to Renee Labrana, Robbie Chandler, and the R Public House for our first gig.

And an extra thank you to Iggy Pop. No particular reason.



all rights reserved


The Snakes Chicago, Illinois

From the karaoke bars of Rogers Park comes a union of three great musicians with day jobs who like it fast, loud, rude, and ending at a reasonable hour so we can work tomorrow.

The Snakes are Zach Tipton on bass, Mikki Scorpion on guitar, and Aaron Smith on drums.

We expect you all to give us ridiculous amounts of money and sexual acts to challenge our wildest imaginations. When you're ready.
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Track Name: (That's What You Get For) Drinking With The Irish
The bars close at 2am, we’re out on the streets at three
We’re blind drunk on Guinness and Jameson whiskey
So we head up to the Oasis for a pint or two or three
Two dollars for a Jim Beam, but if you show your tits it’s free

I’m out with the boys and I’m feeling very childish -
That’s what you get for drinking with the Irish

There’s a fight down at the dartboard and you’re rooting for the bikers
You play a game of pool and lose for five more pints of cider
A curvy chick gives you the eye, she wants you up inside her
Her husband taps you on the back, his fists are clenching tighter

My throat’s on fire and I don’t know what the time is -
That’s what you get for drinking with the Irish

Time to drop my friends home and the cops are out in force
They’re just another obstacle to avoid while on this course
I drive the wrong way down the street, the signs are in old Norse
Tire skid marks in our wake with no signs of remorse

Lights go on and up go the sirens -
That’s what you get for drinking with the Irish

Daylight breaks as I get home, I’m used up like a whore
My shift starts in an hour as my head lands on the floor
I skip the shower and brush my teeth, I’m a sight you can’t ignore
Tonight they’ll call me up again, we’ll booze it up once more

You can’t stop now, you’re addicted to the carnage -
That’s what you get for drinking with the Irish

Don’t sober up or your reputation’s tarnished -
That’s what you get for drinking with the Irish
Track Name: The End Is Coming
I know the end is coming
I feel it coming soon
I hear the ground a-humming
I see the bloody moon

The walls have started crumbling
No place that we can hide
Let’s stand and face the thunder
It’s not safe to be inside

We can’t stay blind, we cannot ignore
Ignorance is bliss that we just can’t afford
The fog is clearing, the light reveals
A road that’s dead, a sky of steel

The man has gone and sold us
Sold us overseas
No one even told us
And now we’re on our knees

Don’t know who to we should follow
Don’t even know our name
Promises were hollow
And tell me, who’s to blame?

Time was only borrowed, but never kindly lent
The time is up, the note has come due for everything we spent
Nothing left to barter, nothing left to sell
All our good intentions laid us out a road to hell

Now our ruin beckons
From a tattered, dirty throne
Now it’s time to reckon
Pick us to the bones

Now their Judas kisses
Blow foul upon the air
Will anybody miss us
When we’re no longer there?

Hold your head up, at least we tried
Even though the beast just wasn’t satisfied
As we dig out our lives, clear away the debris
Maybe there’s a chance for a new destiny

Gotta find a new way

Gonna find a new place

The deal was rotten

We’re not forgotten…
Track Name: Jet Plane
Want to take a ride on your jet plane
Baby, let me ride on your jet plane
Just sitting on the runway makes me insane
It’s such a ride on your jet plane

It’s big and it’s hard and it’s totally sleek
I want to always sit on the pilot’s seat
Baby let me ride on your jet plane

Honey, let me sit on your aircraft
I’m shaking and I’m waiting for the down draft
Leaning back while you raise the flaps
Ready to fly on your aircraft

I can’t believe your cockpit is unexplored
Come on, baby, let me climb on aboard
Honey let me get on your jet plane

Baby let me ride on your jet plane
Honey, take a ride on your jet plane
As long as you’re fast, I will never complain
Keeping it moving on your jet plane

You know your way, you don’t need a map
Please don’t forget to wear your pilot’s cap
Keeping it moving on your jet plane
Track Name: Garden Of Eden
Vast unspoiled fertile land as far as eyes can see
Veins of stone hide underground only visible to me
Animals wear coats of fur and food can grow on trees
Water flows so clean and pure and gleems with energy

I look upon this paradise
There’s money to be made
Fortresses of offices
And billboard palisades
A nightmare for the masses
A heaven for the few
And all I need now is for you
To value what I do

They say that economics is smoke and mirrored halls -
A complex sprawling matrix of arbitrary laws
But the greatest trick we ever pulled, our fastest sleight of hand,
Is to talk you out of keeping track because you wouldn’t understand

We need you.
Oh God, how we need you.
Without you,
How could we exploit you?
But bitter, great, stark irony, you turn your freedom in.
Because of you, this land is ours, because of us you live in sin.

The price we put upon a stock is a number set by man
It could rise today if we want it to, it will fall on our command
You think your money disappeared, it didn’t, it went to us,
And no matter how loud you protest, we escape through all the fuss:

We wrote your laws, we built your courts, our factories arm your troops,
And because we trained your journalists, you wouldn’t know who to shoot.
You think you’re safe if you have a gun, you think a job makes you secure,
But richer we grow in the garden of Eden, of that you can be sure.