born of a bad land, birthed of an ill tongue. draped in broken strings and busted skins, baptized in noise. a pack of underdogs masquerading as wolves. when prompted, pandemonium erupts, only to be silenced in order for a new madness to take shape. documents are being made and filed, countless horrors are taking shape. good night.
also, this one time, we made a little kid cry, no joke. ask mike pedrow if you don't believe us.
