A new track we’re working on, some groovy eastern pieces of flair. This the second time through and it’s promising.
#F is for Fuel…as in the fuel you’ll need to blast off with us to Saturn where there’s a party and only a few humans are invited. So, fill ‘er up, blast off and spread the strawberry jam on this PB&J Space Jam.
We call this one Egypt. Can you see the pyramids? Seriously, they’re to your left. Look! To the left! HAH! Made you look!
Our first recording of madness. Listen at your own risk for fear of insanity!!!!
Oh baby, why you gotta cry so sad? You know Daddy loves you. Let my wailing wah pedal soothe your sadness. Go ahead, cry on my shoulder sweet lump.
Oh shoot, dash some of the hot sauce on this Po’Boy Sammy of Groove. We got the sweet spicy junk that makes you jump up and say HEYOOOOOOO! Dig on it.
A long time ago in a cave fairly close to our house, we found some scrolls made of lamb skin. These scrolls contained the ancient scrawls of a long lost sect of devil monks. They wanted nothing more than to rule you, so hardcore. We call the song The Lonely Sadness of the Ancients, because they are sad that they don’t rule you. Because they are dead. So dead. And sad.
Cuz hell comes in 4’s, it’s the obligatory 4/4 jam. We do this at the end of every band practice to keep our slayzers tuned to stun. It usually turns into a mullet toe jam of epic proportions. Beam me up Joe Dirt.
Like being caught in a tractor beam, we gravitate to the Space Jam of Gruesomeness. This time around we’re working on the crescendo…that means “Total Uber Rocking” to you. Chew on it.
Oh crap! We’re a man down, but we’re thrashing like we’re a man up. Dang this is a hot tub of boiling metal thrash that will burn your flesh if you get too close. Seriously, look from afar, not from aclose, while we gallop on the steed of metal through the fields of burning bushes.