Friday, January 13, 2017
Phyllomedusa - Gods Of The Mourning
Waking in the morning day by day, me and my tight caboose strolls off into no-frog's land. An area and situation I'd rather not be involved in. I see the band/show posters and find myself dreaming of a time where my tight little caboose would be in enough need to wipe, and wipe with these egomaniacs I would.
Destroying the bands and those ridden with enough self-righteousness to overflow Lake Toba is what I crave. I want it. I want it bad. The names, the rhythms, the self promotion. All of it, eradicated.
I hate the nightlife, baby.
Iyng Presence Brusa Reactor For Preservatie
Gods Of The Dusk
Equals In Upper Tooth
Littoral Frm/Aquatic Frm
Keradonts To Emerge Fin Quiannihg