Music is the blood, blood is the life. From my veins bleed verse born from melody, nourished by the inspiration of Painted Muses and choirs of Nephilim. My eyes see what others do not, my words speak what others fear to think. From my throat spills the Call of the Old Ones, heady incantations that bring forth all that is ancient, ingrained in the spirit of heritage. My feet dance the Pattern, my hands weave the Web.
It is who I am.
I make no apologies or excuses.
Mark me as you will, hate me or love me as you will, yet this will never change.