Resurrected acrimony requires another fix, A swift kick to a departed canine cadaver, Like a saline elixir offered to lacerated lungs, Taste every drop. Requital lost, Fade to tangerine rose and spectrum embrace, Crawling from a chalk outline with a halo in my teeth.
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