WE are not imitating Sisters of Mercy.
We sound nothing like them. We look better in sunglasses than they do.

And our pants are real leather. Ha.

Our Dark Lord of Nocturnal Music, Gothicknight, is currently enduring the hellish miasma that is Disney World. We can feel his pain, even from here.

As a result of his absence, the release
of our album: "Mortals...How They Bore Me" will be delayed until his return. It seems that no one here can actually play any instruments.

Buy our other albums, or else you'll never have any friends EVER again.
WE are the Knights of Black Fungus. Worship our long black tresses. Kiss our buckled feet. Wait in line to have one of us snuff out our cigarette on your forehead. Dance to the music that conveys our innermost pain. Our pain is worse than yours. You are insignificant.

Buy all our records. Sell your cat for our music. Sell your Grandmother for our music. Sell your Grandmother's cat for our music. Even if you have to dig up her coffin and pry the cat carcass from her stiffened, moss encrusted skeleton to do it.

Play our CDs at three in the morning. Wake your parents. Make them worry about you. Wear black all the time. Cry and quote our deep, meaningful lyrics to the lover who will never return your feelings of perpetual obsession. Write bad poetry and send it to us so we can burn it.

You are unworthy of us. You don't appreciate real art. WE are ARTISTS. WE create. We breathe life into that which is lifeless. Then we strangle it, because death is eternal..........as are we.