I have remembered you fondly and I always will, but I can't fathom what you've become. A beautiful soul that's worn down by hardship and toil, held under Constantine's thumb. Kept in line by notions of a loving god who'd cast you in an ocean of suffering and loss. Why must a faith leave a dogmatic wake? What a shitty package deal. I hear things you say; did you always feel that way? At which point did you actually stop believing in what's real? It would be easier to take if you didn't act so fake, but I've found this is seldom the case. What makes people so desperate to get through bad times that only god can help them face? So I am left wondering, how do you pass unscathed and not get overwhelmed by dogmatic waves? I'd like to think that if I was in your shoes, I'd be less inclined to believe. Let's move through the steps, come to terms with our deaths. Faith is denial that we must accept mortality. It strains credulity that a master plan would have to be tied to the incredibly dumb luck of which sect you believe. A common-sense creator of both tangerines and tsetse flies says if you choose wrong, too bad but you're fucked when you die? It can't be defined. I will not be kept in line by the notion of a loving god who'd cast you in an ocean of suffering. So remember me fondly. I hope that you always will, but I can't fathom what you've become.
supported by 7 fans who also own “Constantine's Thumb”
Energetic DIY skate-punk, it's over before it's barely begun; yet crams more hooks into a collection of two minute sonic blasts than most pop acts could manage with double the running time. Tristan
supported by 6 fans who also own “Constantine's Thumb”
This album is Rock solid and razor sharp. There is no fucking around here, this band knew exactly what they wanted to do and they exicuted perfectly. Everyle single song is a ripper and every single song has some catchy or memorable part that gets stuck in your head for days.
I turn this album on full blast and dance around my living room with my 4 year old daughter and 1 year old son. R. Slom