The cold beam of a neon lamp. An empty bottle. The ashes of the past are still warm, but a new pair of wings is now growing. Metamorphosis is painful, but unavoidable. Will destruction be the right choice? We're not looking for an answer, we have to act, ignoring the consequences. After all, doesn't everybody want this? We are the synthesis of different trends... various musical styles interlaced within a common concept. We shout violence and weakness, joy and anguish. We're an expression of youthful tension, sons of the twentieth century split, born from the sun but corrupted by the moon. A living oxymoron. Gold and dust beyond space and time, we're eternal and so mortal. Cold lights and dancefloor hits, Final Fantasy VII and absinthe. The stars are watching us... the eclipse is near.
(Source: MySpace profile)