The house is a Venus flytrap and you’re the buzz, buzz, buzzing interloper land, land, landing on the isle of accordion bliss, contracting and expanding with notes as discordant as the offkey hymnal of an unrequited heart. Oh and how that beats! That thumping cauldron of witch tit sorcery that swirls and eddies with the […]
Read MoreReplace those lyrics airing themselves into this open, inebriated air where the conversation flows like a pour from a rotten tap, foamy and stuttering with pause. Fleetwood Mac serenade. The banal drive of pop palp, why not just call it “Sex on a Stove” and have Stevie serenade Lindsay, have Christine McVie lament John. Their […]
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