Back To The Roots

Every now and then, a man has got to get back to the roots. No matter how murky, no matter how filthy. Back to where it all begins, that tingling sensation that only this kind of music can cause, and only intense venting of hatred on another soul could possibly substitute. 

Fuckin bloody roots 

Winding Down

As the year is winding down its last few pathetic moments, I feel like recalling the more interesting soundtracks of some bloody joyful days. The anthems of sweaty, breathtaking evening hunts, down the concrete jungle’s labyrinth. 

And fuck the year’s ‘best of’ list…who gives a shit anyway?

One bloody January

Some fine tasty young blood

And a hell lot of running 

And a hell lot of dripping

Oh shit, let me have some more beautiful days like these…