The role of the artist is to be that of a musical tarot deck.
Through sound we should offer reflection.
Through words we should become the opportunity to dive deep into the psyche,
To transform that which overwhelms into that which can be sung.
To cry out in harmony the praise of the evils that rack us and the heavens that won’t admit our trespasses.
Through these notes and vibrations we hack into the operating system of the fabric of the universe.
We steer it fast and loose into the night sky.
We tear hearts apart and readjust their course.
We make maps out of barking dogs.
With nothing but a truly guttural growl a man may become a great beast.
With no more than a whimper he may become like a child or a field-mouse.
Our words may carry us on the backs of history
Shuffle around our feet like the reputation of cockroaches.
When we sing we pray twice,
For we bring forth the hell inside and offer it up to the light for examination.
A lonely planet.
A single word
Long were we gone.
Never quite knowing how long we were here.
And his horse.
Going to be shooting a documentary while on tour. Excited about hitting the road with Onry Ozzborn, Rob Sonic, Upgrade, and DJ Zone.
Learn more about the documentary in the video below. Hope to see you at the show!
Even our sighs seem heavy with stolen breath
Eyes set out on sights they can’t quite undress
It's rest she hopes is playing next
But the music don't ever sleep my dear
Because there's no room to bury the night here
Every dog comes in limping
No place to dry the proof from teeth, or let it sink in
Someone’s hunger is curled up in the kitchen sink
Now they've lost the sharpest thing they had
That's the hardest thing to keep
Because there’s no place to bury the night here
Or get right by the morning
Bundle your body up in bad weather
Singing the same song you've sung forever
There’s a haunted bet floating round the crowd
My knife hits rust or bone
Before the thick becomes too skinny
And puts me up against a gypsy curse
Or turns the windshield against me
If I loose
You get my spade, my verse, my dues
But if I strike a nerve, or oil, or gold
Before the morning gets right by the night it stole
You bury me standing out under the back porch
AND turn the lights off with me
So I can finally see the sirens singing the moon down
When you howl out that same song now, it’s promising
You'll remember the good things that I done too child
You'll line one up and knock TWO down.
We were thick as we were sharp as we were thieves
Vigilantics and Me