Yeah, let's. It's time.

Monday, February 7, 2011

“There’s a certain moment when you realize that you’ve actually just left the planet for a bit and that nobody can touch you. You’re elevated because you’re with a bunch of guys that want to do the same thing as you. And when it works, baby, you’ve got wings. You know you’ve been somewhere most people will never get, you’ve been to a special place. And then you want to go back and keep landing again, and when you land you get busted. But you always want to go back there. It’s flying without a license.”

That legendary feel.

It said the gal you love is dead

Friday, February 4, 2011

Like Trey Kerby said, “I can’t get mad at four perfect records, two near perfect records, a billion B-sides that are better than most bands A-sides, an excellent live DVD, Meg White’s tits and the riff to “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Grass.”

OK fuckwit it's 'Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground'. But still...

quite the intense. and quite the apt.

Adreno Hoagie

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Bad Blood, sad freak
Torn up, real quick
Race driver, even higher
Fizzy scope, deep frier
Full-face helmet, shudder in the stands

Rampaging Michael, hot streak brother pram
Normal weirdness, drained old backhand
Fudge gone bleary, croquet firebrand

Vixen a-groovy, freeze-up a-dookie
Going down on Joanne
Flamboyant pudgy, broken arrow rad
Wood shaver sidekick, crack bow gone unplanned

Hair's all ruffled, Bo want a truffle
Lick the melting rubber band
Cross-filter kingdom, creamed through mid-on
Scratch Papa Dodo's back
Burned up barracks, got no saviour hand


I'm sorry.