One, two, three times. Eyes closed.
I enjoy going back to Khanate after a long period of not listening to them. Obviously there’s nothing that’ll re-create the ridonkulous feeling of listening to the first album or Things Viral that first time. It actually gave me faith in music — it’s hard to think you’ve heard everything when something that scary crops up.
If I could give up a small and insignificant body part to either write Alan Dubin’s lyrics or sing like him, I’m not sure which I’d choose.
now we’re here. pieces of us in my hands, on the floor, in my pockets.
my god, the smiles, the sneezes, the talking… we’re in that place again.
we’re gone, erased again.
no good times in here.
That’s pretty sweet, but it’s the throat-splitting, vomit-inducing delivery that really makes it.
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