I'm caught in a bind, disgusted with my own kind.
I seek thrill from watching them suffer.
I'll wind up like them, with my head in a gutter.
The sons of bastards, I couldn't die any faster.
My mind is a slum, my hearts the mayor, put a gun to my temple, I'll be my own traitor.
A worthy treason to burn myself down.
Don't be fooled by the thick layer of snot over these songs - this Nova Scotian band has a melodic heart and a whip-smart head. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 3, 2018