Prowler in the Yard is an explosion of lost love gone so wrong it hurts: screams distort the poetic torture of the lyrics, wrenched forth by instrumentation performed at burnout pace in a thrashing death throe that congeals into perfect slices of speed at just the right moments. Song titles such as “Mapplethorpe Grey,” “Snuff Film at Eleven,” “
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much loooove. Q is the greatest letter by the way. it's like a big O with a squiggle on it
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