Thunderfuck and the Deadly Romantics
From the gutters of debauchery creep the Deadly Romantics. Slung low halos captured the hearts of the weak and the souls of the lost. Rising from the crimson hills of lost love, and the battle torn streets of yesterday, to mingle with the old rock and rollers of tomorrow. They walk among you, drinking your women and smoking your shadows, crawling before the behemoths of rock.
In front walks the Thunderf***, born of the gods of depravity, desire and impropriety. His perversion kills those who are pure of heart and renders the immoral above all others. Indulgence is the mark of the beast and he wears his lasciviousness on his sleeve for all to see. He speaks to the unbelievers and converts with devastating results, as the headlight queens and scarlet women of the underground feast on his seismic religion. He is nuclear war bringing the rock to the masses.
The warriors of the purge follow in tow, the infidels with riffs and chords of power. Six string solitude destroys the facsimile of the modern day rock star. They forge on into unknown lands and fear no evil as the power of the satanic sisters fall at their feet.
Where would these modern day heroes be without the rhythm of the gods. Insane beyond contempt, they rave unhinged to challenge the suicide of analog while they crush the click track of consciousness and force the oppressed to feel their power.
Together they band as the Deadly Romantics, rock whores of the stage, relentlessly f***ed by rock and roll. Let him who hath understanding follow the new gods, and reap the rewards of the just.