I can remember a time that this image was everywhere; on patches, posters, stickers, graffiti.

It’s hard now to remember a time when war without end was considered an aberration, a time before a daily body count was just part of the background noise, like crickets in the country.




Be advised the language is rather coarse on this one:

I would feel very out of place at an ICP concert. Their fans, the Juggalos, tend to be brash and loud, and that’s just not me.

But in a quieter setting we’d get along fine.

Lines like “F-ing magnets, how do they work?” give them a bad rap. The joke almost writes itself on that one- but it’s an uneasy joke, because the truth is on a pop test most people would flunk that question.

I think if you look under the makeup, behind the profanity, you find people trying to create a community, a family, with a visible undercurrent of spirituality.

That’s common ground.

Full lyrics HERE.