Do I cut a deal with the devil, or fall through the floor until I'm at your level. A selfish tongue, for selfish lungs. Fate kicks my feet, I'm a end up hung. Found myself at mile 666, I would choke on this devil's spit. Scream my name into an empty room, give way to those who fucking assume. I'm a soulless man, in bed doom, I'll show you why they always leave so soon. If I don't let this out, it's gonna eat me away, I'm torn between your ghost and finding my own way. Weld my soul to my bones, I'm just a demon waiting to be born.
Chicago indie rockers Nonagon evoke the glory days of ’90s basement shows, sandwiching catchy hooks between swathes of speaker-busting fuzz. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 3, 2021
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