The Ballet is down and out, out and in, in and out and in and out. Desperate, depraved, and sexually frustrated. The sound of your home town. The sound of a city scape where you find your little body lost. The sound of a dirty fast food res-ter-aunt. The roar of years rushing past as the seconds and minutes trickle away slowly. Beautiful beauty queens at county fairs. Fast cars. Hard drugs. The smell of trees on a wet summer night. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
We want to play shows! Send us something if you want us to come to your town.
