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- Jul 26, 2003
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I was shakey for about an hour after. Wasn't so much the volume but the low end bass, felt like I had been beaten up by sound.george mcfly said:i felt so fucking ill after this
gnarly!
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I was shakey for about an hour after. Wasn't so much the volume but the low end bass, felt like I had been beaten up by sound.george mcfly said:i felt so fucking ill after this
gnarly!
hey you forgot about Rex!Evil Lizzie said:And I do walk among ones dike. And i do survey the land. And i did become the reaper with my own bare hands. for i am wooden, those some call me Hermes, some call me Rome, and Mercury. god of cargoes, god of weather. Hanging god of boundaries. hanging god of gibbits hill. Killing god of hidden doorways. Spinning the yarn from ones dike to silverine.Spinning the talebook.Telling the tale. Telling the tellbook to allof sundrie. Keltabarian and Irish gale. Then i hear camp followers bellow afar...The shrieking lament for Johnny Guitar.....Look to the farthest far horizon. Look bloodless deepest scar. Look to the scattering Batonic uprising. For this be the wall of Johnny Guitar. This be the ditch that you shall die in. Here be the wall that i shall cry on. Ditch dug with antler and oxbow shovel. This rising wall that shades our ancient hovel. Look to the north, and look mile yonder. Look to our aigdrazilbarie. Look to the Saxon chasing Viking, Look to the Norman chasing Saxon. Look to the German chasing German..German German German German. Here in the bloodless deepest scar.. For this be the wall of Johnny Guitar. Play your gloom axe Stephen O' Malley..Sub Bass clinging to the sides of the valley..Sub bass ringing in each last ditch and comb. Greg Anderson, purveyor sonic doom. To rage in sound this valley in despair. Doom and Gloom as each a splendid pair. The rage and sound the valley and despair. Not Abraham, Not Moses, Not Christ. Neither Jove to either whom we have sacrificed. Not Attus, Not Mohammed..But to hilltop four...Evade and dance, and meet the beer pour. Look to the farthest far horizon. Dont blame the messenger. DONT BLAME THE MESSENGER> Look to the farthest far horizon. Dont blame the messenger. DONT BLAME THE MESSENGER>For i am Death. no ragnarock with me.. For I am Doom. no ragnarock with me. And I do walk among ones dike. And i do survey the land. And i did become the reaper with my own bare hands. And the i was Killvekar with his arms outstretched. And then i was Killvekar with his broken neck. Then i was the villian and the victim and the priest. as grim mistunderstanding, As grim asMy Wall, MY WALL.. Caught in the thrall of My Wall... My Wall, MY WALL.. Caught beneath the thrall of My Wall...Here in the bloodless deepest scar.For here the wall of Johnny Guitar. Here in the bloodless deepest scar. Here the wall of Johnny Guitar.Play your gloom axe Stephen O' Malley..Sub Bass climbing to the sides of the valley..Sub bass ringing in each last ditch and comb. Greg Anderson, purveyor sonic doom. Step in the thrall, Stand in the thrall, Stand at the thrall. Stand at the thrall Stand at the thrall .Stand at the thrall.Stand at the thrall .Stand at the thrall of my tidal wall......Mothers to your bosoms grab your child and sing, as to your breasts cascade and sing.Brothers and Fathers..Damned at the thing in the middle of the town, to judge at the thing. These the Effeminate Priests of Frey, that don thier drag and shriek through the day. The Drag they have gone thrugh the muddiest fields,spinning seed to raise the yields. These the odd castrated womb men on this odourous land of no men...There the infernal Piestess of Frea. These her people layer on layer.There the infernal Piestess of Frea. Visiting the farms the seething seer. Visiting the farms and barely leaving. Mounting the juvialesce, the people grieving...Doldens, doddering dead and dying........Hear the modest priests if Eng. Whos harking always let us sing. That let us free out tightest waistband. Lets us fertilize our own land.
Evil Lizzie said:And I do walk among ones dike. And i do survey the land. And i did become the reaper with my own bare hands. for i am wooden, those some call me Hermes, some call me Rome, and Mercury. god of cargoes, god of weather. Hanging god of boundaries. hanging god of gibbits hill. Killing god of hidden doorways. Spinning the yarn from ones dike to silverine.Spinning the talebook.Telling the tale. Telling the tellbook to allof sundrie. Keltabarian and Irish gale. Then i hear camp followers bellow afar...The shrieking lament for Johnny Guitar.....Look to the farthest far horizon. Look bloodless deepest scar. Look to the scattering Batonic uprising. For this be the wall of Johnny Guitar. This be the ditch that you shall die in. Here be the wall that i shall cry on. Ditch dug with antler and oxbow shovel. This rising wall that shades our ancient hovel. Look to the north, and look mile yonder. Look to our aigdrazilbarie. Look to the Saxon chasing Viking, Look to the Norman chasing Saxon. Look to the German chasing German..German German German German. Here in the bloodless deepest scar.. For this be the wall of Johnny Guitar. Play your gloom axe Stephen O' Malley..Sub Bass clinging to the sides of the valley..Sub bass ringing in each last ditch and comb. Greg Anderson, purveyor sonic doom. To rage in sound this valley in despair. Doom and Gloom as each a splendid pair. The rage and sound the valley and despair. Not Abraham, Not Moses, Not Christ. Neither Jove to either whom we have sacrificed. Not Attus, Not Mohammed..But to hilltop four...Evade and dance, and meet the beer pour. Look to the farthest far horizon. Dont blame the messenger. DONT BLAME THE MESSENGER> Look to the farthest far horizon. Dont blame the messenger. DONT BLAME THE MESSENGER>For i am Death. no ragnarock with me.. For I am Doom. no ragnarock with me. And I do walk among ones dike. And i do survey the land. And i did become the reaper with my own bare hands. And the i was Killvekar with his arms outstretched. And then i was Killvekar with his broken neck. Then i was the villian and the victim and the priest. as grim mistunderstanding, As grim asMy Wall, MY WALL.. Caught in the thrall of My Wall... My Wall, MY WALL.. Caught beneath the thrall of My Wall...Here in the bloodless deepest scar.For here the wall of Johnny Guitar. Here in the bloodless deepest scar. Here the wall of Johnny Guitar.Play your gloom axe Stephen O' Malley..Sub Bass climbing to the sides of the valley..Sub bass ringing in each last ditch and comb. Greg Anderson, purveyor sonic doom. Step in the thrall, Stand in the thrall, Stand at the thrall. Stand at the thrall Stand at the thrall .Stand at the thrall.Stand at the thrall .Stand at the thrall of my tidal wall......Mothers to your bosoms grab your child and sing, as to your breasts cascade and sing.Brothers and Fathers..Damned at the thing in the middle of the town, to judge at the thing. These the Effeminate Priests of Frey, that don thier drag and shriek through the day. The Drag they have gone thrugh the muddiest fields,spinning seed to raise the yields. These the odd castrated womb men on this odourous land of no men...There the infernal Piestess of Frea. These her people layer on layer.There the infernal Piestess of Frea. Visiting the farms the seething seer. Visiting the farms and barely leaving. Mounting the juvialesce, the people grieving...Doldens, doddering dead and dying........Hear the modest priests if Eng. Whos harking always let us sing. That let us free out tightest waistband. Lets us fertilize our own land.
I thought he looked bored or something, the way he was looking around the whole time.ddmurph said:anyone else think rex ritter reminded em of obi wan kenobi in his cloak? gig was awesome anyway.
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