When the gods left with smoke and ashes,
Who do you think was there?
Six fingered dealers eager to show all their wares.
Only the blind man knows the road.
Only the faithful can let go.
Trespassing the garden, lantern is flickering
Below the surface, waters are bickering
Aleister Crowley, there’ll be no golden Dawn,
Only the molten tongue of Metatron.
You just cool spellbinder, shaking up a bag of tricks.
And your house made of mirror, and your house made of sticks.
Almost impossible to pick a favorite track here, this album demands listening front-to-back, and loudly. I wish these guys would regroup for round two someday, but I'm grateful they got together at all. Mark Agne
Good sound for a road trip !!! The stoner rock atmosphere as relaxed as driving on the open road while the wind blows your head clear through the car window. Stephan