From deep within the confines of the city sewers, and the darkness beneath your bed, Thee Hobo Gobbellins slash and jangle their path into your skull. They weave a wickedly catchy mixture of ancient pirate curses, orcish vaudeville, and eldritch hobo semaphore. I remember well the day it all began; it was back in the summer of ‘03, on the fetid prairie of Gorgoroth, that their ebon-striped demonic boxcar was hitched to the devil’s train. And wherever they stop...
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