Eternity lies in tatters, dangling like a fractured leg, cast in monotone and clinging to a gnawed prosthetic hip. The sole remnants of a shattered daydream, still threaded and ever supporting. Carrion cast aside, rotting meat and feathers, a meagre feast for the crow. Eyes already chewed from their sockets, throat torn out clumsily, organs removed and kept in bag. Halos hung upon retained reflections, resist the winds of change, and sheltered from the bitter chill. I wish you'd share your bruises I wish you'd share your lies.
Just picturing the basement dwelling losers standing around in a shitty club with like 12 people pretending that they are artistic geniuses because they make tapes. Basically the worst tendencies in modern noise all compounded into one sound. Then again; most noise is terrible. I mean how much of it do we really need? Damn sorry for being such a bummer. Adam Lehrer/Safety Propganda