Fucking Slayer

And, as power surged to the stage from black-clad hears, we knew that truly, God Hates Us All. When you live in the rural suburbs, music is your idol. You sift through the detritus of junk shops masquerading as antique stores for records, paw through clattering suitcases of cassettes from when your parents were young and cool, saving up for trips into the city to buy new music—fingers crossed at a place that isn’t scared of “explicit lyrics or content”. The internet makes it easier. It’s all there, without waiting…