song pollution. noise in hundreds. the smog is humming your worst, and we all cough it up. given a shape to them, the words in a fury. some stuck in
Shivers down their spines, With every chord you hit, You can make a crowd forget. And they swear, That when you sing .. your words .. Its as sacred as
thunderbolts will fly forever. sure as the west wind blows. atrocious and baffled. sentenced to life in sound prison. the secrets are always the same