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Your accident, like, “peek-a-boo! Here I am.” Filters paint the foreground red. So, there I stand.If you want it, you’ve gotta feed it every day. The lead bleeds indecencies—the price you pay.

We both know what you came for, baby. I’m out here riding the tide. A sickness for tragedy; somehow, I’m making it mine.

Some yellow tape, a brief Act Two, and we all go home. The seed is spent, a two-car wreck; we’re more alone.

If you flaunt it, you’ve gotta need it in every way. A scene queen, dead frequencies—my prize you pay.

We both know what you came for, baby. I’m out here riding the tide. A sickness for tragedy; somehow, I’m making it mine.

Whatever it is, I can make it mine. I’m drawing the world’s shortest, straightest line.

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Destroy Babylon Boston, Massachusetts

"...music that's just as suitable for a dance party as for a street fight." -NH Magazine

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