"...Angels flock, fingers tightly grasping bottles, in bars and diners. Their wings and eyes unseen, bodies forgotten in the dreary dusk- shifting shadowy forms. Their mouths taste like liquor and they will look upon you and call you holy with a strange, sardonic twist to their lips. They leave you monsterous at dawn, half-in love with God..."

for the south, for God, for angels, for death and for my strange relationship with it all

11 tracks