I define my music as atmospheric post-agressive timberpunk with acoustic roots. Others say that my music is more progressive ambient darkrock with a contemporar
I smell a rat in our midst
Clutching the keys to the kingdom in his fist.
(I smell a corpse) perfumed in the favor of kings;
Standing a knife’s length from the throne,
His smile could take the crown alone.
It’s no surprise:
The emperor’s new clothes are a cloak and dagger.
There’s a spring in his step these days,
He’s quite the traitor!
All hail to the king!
To Hell with the king!
Warden of the sewers;
Our king and jailer,
Our new emperor is a wolf in sheep’s clothes.
Being a prisoner is better if you’re convinced you’re a king,
Being a captive is easy if you’re convinced you have the key.
