In the moment we were introduced to our first hero, shortly thereafter another character strides onto the scene and for a moment the stage is his. The villain extraordinaire. Immediately noticeable was the troubling combination of a persona bent on a crumbling philosophy and a significant dose of self confidence, providing this misfit with the capability to conspire against the perfect incarnation of the hero.

More often than not the crew that pulls together around our villain is a miss-match of cronies, a faithless padre, a group of strangely lovable henchmen. Born from the rejection of perpetual societal suffocation, uninspired by the collective garbage modern man spins and willing to stand apart. Brought to union by coincidence as much as convenience. An intermittent concoction brewed from social alchemy, unlikely to find frequent repetition.

And here lies the song of these henchdogs. That although no crew is always fully staffed due to the shifting sands of villainy, it will prevail when ordinary life casts them aside. On the beaten road a deeper string is strung, a soothing hum of bass, that knows we shall live to ride together once more. And if duty calls, face certain peril side by side.


Crimson skies, lying down ain’t just for the dead


Vices and outfits aren’t reserved for the rich


A man in touch with what brings him joy can continue walking were others retreat


Have pride


Allow anarchy


Get sidelined


And raise the flag mateys


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