your tracks are easy to lose if no-one’s following you. why aren’t you a leader? you said it yourself, you’re scared of the truth: “it’s so fucking cold. if it’s so bitter, why would I want it near my fucking tongue? let someone else take it, it’s not for me.” if ignorance is so fucking bliss and misery hates to be alone, I’m without company with a mind of anything but calm. you think I’ve made a mistake ‘cause a blind eye sees no evil? I may be under this weight but it’s not something I can’t get used to. I’m not running away, and I’m not taking one word I say back. I’ve found in misery what can’t be found in emptiness, and I get caught up in the game of asking what I could have changed. at a vague guess it’s why I can’t find no peace inside, even though that’s all I want: an escape. there’s no wonder why we all die: even if bodies didn’t waste, minds would tire and turn to dust courtesy of the things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done and what we’ve ignored just so we can shrug off guilt like it’s a bad idea. my mind to dust.
This is a damn fine release. It feels genuine; at times even emotional (in a good way). It's fun and witty while also being pissed off in all the right ways. It's political, critical, and nonconformist. Yet it still manages to feel original in an arguably oversaturated genre. Nicholas Whittemore