Ramblings on resonances repugnant, riveting, tranquil, and biting.
“You can’t die if you’ve been dead for years.”
“Gaze upon the fetid rot,
Weeping wounds of the world forgot”
Excessive ramblings on timbres harsh, elating, groovy, boisterous, and psychotic.
“Hell is a reflection of myself, branded in the skin of those I love.”
Invigorating and alive, contrary to the deathly genre of which it belongs.
While you’re nursing your rusty tetanus-filled wounds, be prepared to dance your way to a cyber beat.
Eccentric, cerebrum-liquefying savagery.
Immolating our cerebrums.
Scott Stapp didn’t died for our sins.
Load your cannons and prep the gunpowder!
“No halting the flood’s advance,
See it through to the end”