Review: Profane Burial – Desolate Echoes of Turmoil
In my mind I’m bathing in the crisp Norwegian fjords right now.
In my mind I’m bathing in the crisp Norwegian fjords right now.
Welcome to the circus of value.
Does this imply the existence of a Minotaur of Life?
Welcome to the flock.
Oh, to cower before a flaming orange orb…
Even after the end of the world, there’s still hope for prog metal bingo.
Free drinks for everyone? At the end of the world, it’s the least you could do.
Are we the wormwood?
I’m not sure how you could even see an eclipse from behind.
Death/doom with a banjo, cello, and theremin!?