Metal is depression, hate, fear, anticipation, regret, enjoyment, (place adjective here), and sex all rolled into a ball of evil and released through the thrashing of a hand on something such as a guitar, bass, or drum or escaping through an unhuman squeal or scream into a microphone.
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So here's to living life miserable.
And here's to all the lonely stories that I've told.
Maybe drinking wine will validate my sorrow.
Every man needs a muse and mine could be the bottle.
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