the cornor of the mountain top is the home of the swami. but what that holy man doesn't know could just about fill the atlantic ocean. so cue dracula, who knows at least a little bit about sleep, caring all that dirt around with him. dirt, wriggling with grubs & leeches. dracula knows about folk music, & johnny cash. but lets neglect that vampire motherfucker & talk about frankenstein. made by a loving creator & then exiled, reviled. sounds like a god & mordicai metaphor if i've ever heard one. i'll chase you to the ice-caps, i'll put an end to you even if it means an end for me. i'll give up immortality to see you throttled, baby jesus. oh you'll be ripe with rot when they find you.