My idols are dead and my enemies are in power. Oh, this song’s about me, my life, my hate. Whether a corporate sell out or a manufactured band, whether fallen on black days or in the end, so numb.

Each song a suicide note, each chorus cries for help. We punch the air and sing along as we sit in traffic and take the train.

How did we intervene?

Buy the retro shirt, stream the new album, and expect the same brand of angst. God-forbid they find religion like Corgan or be like Hetfield & climb up on the wagon.

Roll our eyes, skip middle-aged albums and pray for a return to form. “I hate myself and want to die.” Whoa, cool title, dude! To quote another who was held up, who fell; “Who’s responsible? You fucking are!”


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