stomach hurts. upper lip occasionally throbs. i take too fucking long to heal. warm weather is bad for my skin. i'm pocked with bites and whiteheads and rashes. Bropeth' version of "Would?" needs more heroin. i dunno.. it has the atmosphere, but none of the bite. the original sounds like a gangrene rainbow arching over a junkyard of burning coffins. You felt the corrosion, as if their flesh was peeling back with every note, their muscles atrophying and their bones being blown into dust. This cover just sounds like a bunch of Sam Ash employees on a cloudy day.
had to cancel a show this past Monday. club is pissed. don't care. given the kind of year we've had, its a small miracle we're playing at all. 6 years together and we've never canceled on the day of a performance, but we have to pick our battles. don't wanna get more into it here. no one cares about 6 years of hard work... they only care about the occasional fuck up, and they hold that against you forever, no matter how much you bust your ass, how much harder you work then 90 percent of the bands out there who would reserve a room a Bellview if they had gone through a fraction of what we've been through. Lightweights are the lot of you.
i hear from no one, and when i do no one talks to who they should. they just dump it over here. it does nothing but rile me up to the point where it takes 3 cups of coffee and a jerk-fest centering on the finer moments of Kobe Tai's filmography to calm my ass down.
put a cap on lyrics for awhile. this is both due to writer's block and a conscious decision on my part. i had intended to take a break back in April, but then my best friend passed away and i started hemorrhaging thoughts and visions... and they needed to go somewhere. It sounds trite, but every one of these songs does serious damage to myself... that's how i know they're worth preserving. You don't look there, but all my lyrics are here. no one cares about that... you want peepee dance gifs and copy/pastes from Twitch. well who doesn't? i guess it does beat the morbid self-brow beating of my "creative" writing. maybe you hate it. maybe you don't know what to say.
annnnd we will be back!