Pagan Comforts by THEE INFERNAL PRACTICE

Get up, get out. Love, dictator of Life, I must confess: I have no complaints, and no apologies.

[404 Error: Track description missing][See: “Blue Dream” by the Electric Division, 2016]

Sometimes, O once in a while, the Good Lord and Lady will deign to offer one peasant such as us a heaping spoonful of Divinity, which tastes like love and smells like rain and tickles like a suddenly-remembered game, a game to while away infinite summer nights…the unseen temple is God’s Own Medicine Cabinet.

Prime Time, It’s a Fine Time! Prime Time, the Sublime Time! You know what’s even better than heavenly intoxication? You can make a killing off selling the antidote!

"and thus we derived, Pope Pop, these artifacts by following the law to the letter, thee ultimate letter, thee infernal process by which outlaw is borne:
See the white mountain inverted: The silver stallion runs into binary death valleys, these haunted cranial ridges, and drinks from the black lake: happy is his peace that knows no value"