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    return of the fuzz
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Guest Clark Andrews

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You sorry people will be boasting by our breath
As we annex the beating fist inside your chest
The king sweeps eyes a thousand times over
Far from sober and desires the worship you hold as a prize

Isis, she of throne, they're in my sight
Thought they swear their might
Is in the name of what's right.
They've promised you temples and grandiloquent song
And said I can pray where I've prayed for oh-so long.

You see--heavens to be praised!--your gods and mine are one and the same.
Close full-circle to unity so we can sneakily/snake-ily slip between.
We love our clasping fingers to be adorned with ring.

This is the eye of anger, whirling towards them with might, listen; no strangers, come readily to fight,
do not show them mercy, your invaders have no right, and when in full direction, we'll send their souls to flight.

Isis, she of throne, where have you gone?
They've deformed my song to the beat of their wrong.
They've taken your temples, impregnated with spawn,
And said I can stay if I don't stay too long.

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Let's Manufacture Static Birmingham, Alabama

The Jimblejorp once proclaimed that a breed of giants would emerge from clouds and descend upon instruments in the form of man. This band is not those descendants. Furthermore, the Jimblejorp is only rumored to exist, much less tell prophecies, even much less tell them accurately. If you see the Jimblejorp, report him to this band for a reward and the authorities for benefit of humanity. ... more

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