We don't Eat - by James Vincent McMorrow

In celebration of the black-and-blue discordant and brotherly, fucked up and co-dependent, violent and streamlined, mythically touched-in-the-head, horror and dread-struck, epically improved first two episodes of (and a third that while not so brilliant, did not discourage me from the notion that this show has stepped it up a notch) Supernatural, I give you the most Winchester-y song to ever Winchester.

Am I an honest man and true?
Have I been good to you at all?
Oh I'm so tired of playing these games
We'd just be running down
The same old lines, the same old stories of
Breathless trains and, worn down glories
Houses burning, worlds that turn on their own

So we don't eat until your father's at the table
We don't drink until the devil's turned to dust
Never once has any man I've met been able to love
So if I were you my friend, I'd learn to have just a little bit of trust.


This has been an entry. Talk to me about leviathans and Lucifer and lights at the end of the tunnel please.