Dude, typing everything on your liner notes in Ye Olde English font doesn't make you tough. It just pisses me off when I'm trying to write a review of your shitty record. Don't get me wrong, I personally didn't want to read your shitty lyrics. I mean, listening to the CD, I could pick out shitty lines like "No one is coming here to rescue me" and "Empty, I see this world through broken windows, empty" and that definitely didn't make me want to delve further into your troubled, whiney mind. But, as a reviewer, it's my duty to do things like this so my faithful readers will know how terrible your band really is. Other deep gems include "She was a Latin girl, and I will never know her. She works in a restaurant and I will always go there. She could show me how to move and I will never show her." or how about "Tell me a story, baby, one that bleeds the deepest red." Wow. Walt, my boy, it's a good thing you're dead, because otherwise Leaves of Grass would have to compete with this guys obviously overpowering poetic genius.

I can't even describe the music. Shitty "emotional" guitar chords, predictable bass lines, some guy pounding on the drums trying to play them heavy, and the worst vocals ever. He's not just off-key, he's not even hitting the ballpark. The sound is more akin to the yelps that escape the throat of a four year old kid who got his dick zipped up in his footy pajamas. There are eleven tracks on this CD, but I could only make it through three before I had to rinse my mouth of that gross vomit aftertaste.