This is an album of distress. It's made in insane yelps in escaping from a person drowning in everything. In sadness, unfulfillment, anxiety, nervousness, hopelessness, anger, and everything goddamn else. Quite unusually, I feel fiercely disconnected from the construction of this album – it flowed, lyrically, musically, and performatively as a subconscious seed producing a sickly wilting flower. It doesn't even feel finished even though it validly is. I can scarcely remember scrawling this lyrics out like foamed-mouth ravings and gently insane vignettes of a life on the fringe of good sense and upstanding moral values.

I'll just leave the whole emotional sensibilities of this thing to rot now. Surely, much of the emotional content here is spurious, impulsive, fiery, and entirely temporal. Do I exactly feel the things expressed herein anymore? I don't know – the nature of the spurious impulse is such that it is often unaccountable to retrospective analyses, I am unconvinced of my own sincerity so how can I be necessarily convinced of the honesty of my art? I dunno, I'm a significantly biased party in this equation and can't give anything approaching an unbiased philosophical position.

If my happiness is based on the idea that everything is a sick joke I remain uneasy with it. It's just that every parcel of care in my system stands so steadfast, so valiant against the stagnant tides of apathy and despondency, that it almost starts to make a goddamn difference. If you could quantify life – which is a pretty worthless endeavor, actually – and take these 2 values and subtract them from each other, this album would be the resulting difference. Or something. I've pathologized and made valid lies in my own mind so everything is salty...eh...grain of salty.

If this is in fact what sensitivity means, I'll take the consecration of my life to the eternal pillar of flames as a desirable alternative, thank you very much. I'm done writing for now, everything else I could possibly venture to emotionally express would just be profanizing and banalizing the very sentiments and thus a waste of text.

Kill all the things that bind you,
Little King Trash Mouth (LKTM)

P.S.

Minor CW for “The Most Ignorant Veil” - sexual assault and police violence
The rest isn't too objectionable, unless you really hate whining and swear words of course. In which case run far, far, fucking away.

P.S II - The last track isn't anti-mosh, it's anti-machismo and anti-violence, that's all.