Twitching crack baby, buys and girls!!! I damn near forgot the quote of the day!! You were hoping, weren't you? Well, too bad! Here we go...
My flavour is the stuff of locusts. Hot chili firebrand spurting volcano teeth. Bleeding skies, sulphur mines... The foul breath of satan's favorite gutterworm. You feel me when I'm close- an icewind of steel stilletos hammered in your spine. Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing forth and everything's a mess. Every posession you ever had- wrecked- lying at your feet. Telegrams that tell you god is dead piled high on the TV. The incessant TV. Burbling. Distorted. The cheesecake nun advertising sea cow lemon shit in sixty different languages. A gargoyle handjives for the hard of hearing. Subliminals. Criminals. Phoney business men in thick rimmed glasses. Bad comedians. laughing bags aping the halleluja chorus- the forgotten version- out of key(slightly) just enough to annoy you. My flavour is cheap perfume on a rotting man-ray maggots! Dead maggots. My flavour is a wound reopening by surprise. Green fishes eyes flowing out. Wriggliing things, gelatinous. Still alive and screaming. Out of key(slightly) just enough to annoy you. My flavour's a plunging elevator, a millisecond before it hits the cellar. A cellar with mutated rats. Old, very old lost teeth. Abortions. Garbage. So pungent it hums. Out of key(slightly) just enough to annoy you. My flavour's your flavour. Deep within you. Hidden. Waiting to get out...
-The Tear Garden
Empathy With The Devil
If you got through all that, and didn't skip to the end, you win! If you skipped, YOU LOSE. But don't fret. Your time may yet come.
Trust the fuckhead. See ya.
My flavour is the stuff of locusts. Hot chili firebrand spurting volcano teeth. Bleeding skies, sulphur mines... The foul breath of satan's favorite gutterworm. You feel me when I'm close- an icewind of steel stilletos hammered in your spine. Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing forth and everything's a mess. Every posession you ever had- wrecked- lying at your feet. Telegrams that tell you god is dead piled high on the TV. The incessant TV. Burbling. Distorted. The cheesecake nun advertising sea cow lemon shit in sixty different languages. A gargoyle handjives for the hard of hearing. Subliminals. Criminals. Phoney business men in thick rimmed glasses. Bad comedians. laughing bags aping the halleluja chorus- the forgotten version- out of key(slightly) just enough to annoy you. My flavour is cheap perfume on a rotting man-ray maggots! Dead maggots. My flavour is a wound reopening by surprise. Green fishes eyes flowing out. Wriggliing things, gelatinous. Still alive and screaming. Out of key(slightly) just enough to annoy you. My flavour's a plunging elevator, a millisecond before it hits the cellar. A cellar with mutated rats. Old, very old lost teeth. Abortions. Garbage. So pungent it hums. Out of key(slightly) just enough to annoy you. My flavour's your flavour. Deep within you. Hidden. Waiting to get out...
-The Tear Garden
Empathy With The Devil
If you got through all that, and didn't skip to the end, you win! If you skipped, YOU LOSE. But don't fret. Your time may yet come.
Trust the fuckhead. See ya.