The Mongrel King Findlay, Ohio
THIS SOUND IS NOT MY VOICE, IT'S THE ROAR OF THE WIND YOU HEAR. THE NOTES I PLAY ARE NOT NOTES AT ALL, THEY ARE SHEETS OF FIRE, THEY ARE THREATENING SPEARS. EACH WORD I SING BECOMES THE THING I SING IT IS, A FOUNTAIN A SPRING A FLUTTERING WING THAT COOLS YOUR CHEEK OR FANS THE FIRES OF THE ABYSS MY WORDS ARE A SPELL AND MY SPELL A DEADLY KISS I AM AN ACOUSTIC ALCHEMIST ... more
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