Think empty bus station in new york at 2 am. A junkie is overdosing, dreams of his lonely, empty, run down manhattan flat. his joy box in the center of the room. Relizing he made nothing of himself,the voice of death, reading him his last story.
Dirrty pop
I'll re-do this later. Kaiser Wingate, dirty pop band from WBL, Minnesota
Story behind the song
Long story. interesting things though is that when I was recording the rhythm part, I plugged right into the recorder and then miced the unplugged guitar to get the 'clicking' of the strings as I played to make it sound acoustic. Well I picked up such noices like mic feedback, dogs collars rattling, me snuffling, my hallwall pantry doll being flung open. so many random things that just fit into the song ever so wonderfully, be listening to them. And I fuzzed the vocals. for a reason I will tell you if you ask.
Lyrics
On a night which barred a cold crisp air. The wolves cried out in nostalgia, to any thing that cared. Tonight theyd trout the winding road, enshrouded in disgust and dispair, in hopes to find in one site, what would require a stare
Past the tree of diety and past the feild of necrophiallac remains, they came in sight of a town,
A young man's brains.
The smell of flesh was the drive that progressed to the endeavors final destination. The love for death, overpowered the rest, and bred the plaque of deception.
They acted out their pre-sythned contrivaince, in a way, a dose, of intese vigor. People paniced, made a fuss, but the act of a small boy is what made the bank go bust.
"I will stop this death parade on the people that I cherish, for you to hurt one of them, I first must perish"
The team of animals seemed to relent, seeming to retreat the bloodless hunting with pure content.
In a second they made a jump at the little boy, they tore his head clean of his shoulders they surely weren't playing it coy.
Next was the tribe, oh how they ran away
In a minute flat, they were all dead, playing the role of prey.
(Sorry for the spelling errors, did this quick)
