LIVE REPORT: Static Dress, Black Coast, Return to Solace, Invasion at Riff Factory, Stoke-on-Trent
Made by musicians, for musicians.
Made by musicians, for musicians.
The bloody descent to my heavenly grave.
The person who made God.
Erase me from my truth, bury me from my being.
Nowhere I want to be, nowhere further from the lines.
These safety nets we fall back on are cancer.
Heaven came burning down as I saw myself dissolve through her eyes.
You ask if I’m ready to die for an extra hit on a Saturday night
Delusions of grandeur used to subdue doubt.