being left alone to die. being abandoned by the love of our lives. losing the big game. the trying times that can't be dealt with. raping the earth in fine view of our children. bleeding knees. knives in backs. the moments when dreams die in our arms. winning through loss. hugs that heal. living in the moment. being abused by love.
Have you ever wondered what it would sound like to
fuck a stranger on the floor of a gas station
bathroom? Perhaps you have wondered to yourself what
that smell is that lingers wherever you go. The
answers to these mysteries aren't beyond reach nor are
they eternal questions that should plague humanity
into war after war. Heres a hint. 333. No, not the
trinity. Its a wang dang rock band. The once dumbly
called Triple Three has come to pull down your shorts
with a loving nightmare they call music.
Offering up lullabies for a strong bellied, work-a-day
community 333 prove that corporate slaves don't always
need Viagra. This strangely erotic foursome will
chick moan and man howl their way into your hearts and
homes with little effort. This pop/rock-rooted
onslaught dented with left over drugs like swill has
accessibility that most odd rock groups tend to fall
short. Without the normal curse of an over abundance
of social awareness this 333 creature uses its tongue
and cheek antics in a lead by example form.
Yes, rock has been done before. Yes, guitars and chick
singers are too normal to be cool. Isn't that the
idea? Isn't that what we all do? Like the Japanese
adding 'record' and 'fast forward' to our VCRs, 333 have
carved out their own slot of improvements in the
modern music gangbang. Putting the honesty and flow
back where it belongs, in the music itself. No member
stands above the other. Its the oddest thing. The
chick is a member not a leader and for you rock freaks
the men growl you into satisfaction. A true community
of perverse distinction is the 333.
I welcome you to this quadruple threat known as 333.
Pull out your crotch and rock that stroke. This is
rock, baby, like fingering yourself at a funeral.
...HI! Nic *drop D* *headbang* *drinks goat milk and passes out to dreAM...", eye aforeSEE...thus I asSAY..."777+888=999-666=000"...thiS iS Eureka!"...HA!...ca va? bien BEen? boon BE? BEing reborn?
& ♥ the Son Peddler of this San Pedro for that Sun Planet, moi truly...HU!
![Lollipop Factory [on tour]](http://c4.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/89/s_053a23d8a0d44cc1808d52386573e5a3.jpg)
