Put down your hollow tips, And kiss your lover's lips, And know that fate is what we make of it. - Brandon Boyd

Life's a match in a gas tank. Don't ever mourn the ebbing tide.

If I turn into another, Dig me up from under what is covering the better part of me. Sing this song. Remind me that we'll always have each other When everything else is gone.

We have all the elements of being the worst band in the world: a bass player who’s got some slap-bass shit, heavy riff guitars, a DJ scratching on the songs, a crazy drummer, and a singer who’s in touch with his feminine side. Even our band name is the worst name ever: it evokes imagery of ‘Incubus’ in death-metal writing, with bullet belts across our chests.