Whitechapel - Somatically Incorrect

Becoming The Archetype - The Weapon Breaker

[Intro]
Shut up!

Shut up!

They can hear you think.
Make it stop… or make it sink.

[Verse 1]
Every voice inside my head’s got a fucking name,
They line up, scream, and point the blame.
I taste tomorrow but it’s yesterday,
And I can’t tell which one will stay.I’m the sinner, the saint, the king, the prey,
The walls talk back in shades of gray.
Can’t find the truth, it keeps its grin,
Trapped in the war that I live in.

[Pre-Chorus]
I hear ‘em crawl inside my skull,
They pull the strings, I lose control.

[Chorus]
I’m fucking up reality—
And it’s fucking up me!
All these voices fight for the throne—
I’m never alone!
I’m fucking up reality—
And it’s fucking up me!
The world bends, breaks, and won’t let stay—
I fade away!

[Verse 2]
Faces melt, the sky bleeds deep,
Every lie hides something beneath.
Truth cuts deep but it still won’t show,
The stitches hold but the cracks still grow.
My pulse is gone but I still scream,
I lost the plot inside the dream.
Schizo saint or mental fraud—
I am every broken god.

[Pre-Chorus]
Pull the wires under my skin,
Wake me up—I’ll die again.

[Chorus]
I’m fucking up reality—
And it’s fucking up me!
All these voices fight for the throne—
I’m never alone!
I’m fucking up reality—
And it’s fucking up me!
Truth is a curse, a foul ballet—
I fade away!

[Breakdown]
You can’t cure what’s already burned!
You can’t teach what can’t return!
I am the preacher of the mind decayed,
The sermon screams God’s afraid!


“Wake me up!” – can’t sleep again!
“Shut me down!” – I count to ten!
“Turn it off!” – still I remain!
“Turn it off!” – remember my name!

[Final Chorus]
I’m fucking up reality—
And it’s fucking up me!
World’s just noise that won’t obey—
I fade away!
I’m fucking up reality—
And it’s fucking up me!
The truth dissolves, I’ll make it pay—
I fade away!

[Outro]
If they ask for me... tell them I’m all of them.


Every one.

Reality’s a Lie

Hands Before the Reckoning is a record about the moments that exist just before consequence, the quiet seconds when choices are still ours, when conviction hasn’t yet been tested, and when the weight of what we’ve done hasn’t fully arrived. It lives in the space between intention and outcome, where resolve wavers and truth begins to surface.

Lyrically, the album walks through broken rooms, late-night confessions, and moral crossroads, examining how desire, faith, regret, and self-deception shape who we become. These songs are not concerned with absolution or spectacle, but with ownership, the realization that no one escapes the results of their actions, and no one is spared the responsibility of choice.

The title speaks to hands as both instruments and witnesses: hands that reach, hands that fail, hands that push away what they should have held. Before the reckoning arrives, these hands still move freely, capable of harm or healing, surrender or defiance.

Musically, the record balances aggression and restraint, pairing visceral heaviness with moments of reflection. It’s an album that doesn’t rush toward answers, but instead forces the listener to stand still and confront the cost of their decisions, before time closes the door.

Hands Before the Reckoning is not a confession.
It is the pause before one.

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