when i was growing up all i required as a fan was that the artist make good music.
it started and stopped there.
i’d wait years for a new album.
stand in line to buy the CD on release day.
obsess over it front to back, read the lyrics, stare at the art work, try to analyze it.
i got pointed at by a band in the pit once because the singer liked my mohawk and my life was made.
we gotta go back to just enjoying the ride.
here ye here ye thou must understandeth by now thine opinion about me doesn’t matter and i, lord Colson, am quadrupling down on not giving a fxck this year.