[Verse]
If your tongue's a knife
Better hold it tight
Every word you throw
Like a dim streetlight
No room for your shadows
No room for the fight

[Prechorus]
You build no bridges
Just burn 'em down
Your voice is static
A fading sound

[Chorus]
If you got nothing good
Just keep it shut
Save your breath
We’ve had enough
No space for your bitter narration
Fed up with this non-constructive generation

[Verse 2]
You spit out sparks
But there’s no flame
Pointing fingers
It's all the same
Same old players same old game

[Chorus]
If you got nothing good
Just keep it shut
Save your breath
We’ve had enough
No space for your bitter narration
Fed up with this non-constructive generation

[Bridge]
Criticism’s cheap when it’s hollow inside
We’re building dreams while you’re watching 'em slide
Step aside
Step aside
Let the real ones try

Keep It Shut

[Intro]
Yeah… keep talkin’, keep pointin’, keep actin’ holy.
Everyone’s a critic but no one’s got the story.
You motherfuckers love to judge — well here’s your verdict.

[Verse 1]
Welcome to the circus, the courtroom’s open,
Every fake saint’s got their mouth wide open.
Scrolls and screens, your holy shrine,
Feed your ego, drown in wine.
You think you know me? Bitch, you don’t.
Twist my scars like a goddamn quote.
Pious frauds with your clickbait crown,
You build ‘em up just to burn ‘em down

[Pre-Chorus]
Don’t act like you’ve seen my pain,
When you’d melt in half my rain.

[Chorus]
Judge and fuckin’ jury —
Bent on your fake-ass glory!
You preach but you don’t know shit,
Act like gods but choke on it!
Yeah, keep talkin’, motherfucker —
You’re all sound, no thunder!
You love to point, never look inside —
Your crown’s a curse, wear it with pride

[Verse]
You want a villain? Then here I stand,
Middle finger up with a mic in my hand.
You wanna test my temper? Go ahead, push it,
You talk in tweets, I talk in bullets.
Fake woke prophets, so divine,
But your truth’s built on a thin red line.
You ain’t righteous, you’re just loud,
A fuckin’ clown in a moral shroud!

[Bridge]
You judge what you’ll never feel,
You call it truth — but it ain’t real…

I’M THE SIN YOU WISH YOU HAD!
THE CUT THAT MADE YOU SO DAMN MAD!

[Breakdown]
COURT’S IN SESSION! (FUCK YOU, KAREN!)
RAISE THAT GAVEL! (FUCK YOUR FAKIN’ STANDARD!)
You don’t matter, your crown’s corrosion,
I’ll tear your stance from your self-devotion

[Final Chorus]
Judge and fuckin’ jury —
Bent on your fake-ass glory!
You don’t bleed, you just perform,
You light your hate to keep it warm.
Keep on talkin’, motherfucker —
While I burn down your order!
You think you’re justice? Nah, you’re just doom —
Every finger you point seals your tomb

[Outro]
Yeah… keep judgin’.
This time, motherfucker,
We all saw you

Judge And Fuckin’ Jury

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.

The Kisses We Survive

D.R.U.G.S.

The Only Thing You Talk About

Graveyard Dancing

If You Think This Song Is About You, It Probably Is

The Flood (Deluxe Reissue)

O.G. Loko

Still Searching

Sick or Sane (Fifty for a Twenty)

Retrograde

For the past two decades, Silverstein have relentlessly pushed themselves to become the best version of the band for both themselves and their fans. That determination has led the Ontario-based five-piece from their underground roots to becoming one of the most influential bands in their scene, playing two thousand-plus shows all over the globe, and selling over a million records. Now Silverstein are celebrating their 20th anniversary with the release of their 9th, and perhaps strongest album to date: A Beautiful Place To Drown. 

While many bands would take their 20-year anniversary as an opportunity to rest on the laurels of nostalgia, Silverstein (vocalist Shane Told, guitarists Paul Marc Rousseau and Josh Bradford, bassist Billy Hamilton, and drummer Paul Koehler) see the landmark as a time to appreciate how far they’ve come, while also channeling all those years of experience into something new. A Beautiful Place To Drown finds the band deftly balancing their core sound—an intensely dynamic mix of melody and aggression, rooted in the energy of hardcore punk and the unabashed earnestness of emo—with their natural growth as songwriters and evolving inspirations.

Retrograde

SilversteinMusic

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