Out Came the Wolves, My Lunch
Here’s what I wonder about bands like this. When they break up in a couple of years, what will they do for a living? Your job options are probably limited when you look like one of the wax figures of a so-called “tribal witch doctor” at Ripley’s Believe it or Not. I mean, Jesus H. Christ, bruh. You mutilated your ears. At least keep something in ’em now so they don’t flop around like a nonagenarian’s vagina. Have some manners, boy. Damn.
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