We Sing of Only Blood or Love, treads on revered ground. With each step though, it confirms its own religion. Echoes of the gods that were worshipped, fill this record, immediate and careful. There are no false idols here, no room for them. No time.
Lean, absent of pretense, or anything unnecessary. A preacher with his holy book held high, Dax Riggs sets out to convert. There is no tent, or choir, or soapbox. There are no chairs for congregants, they’d only be thrown into the fire.