Ackk! Born of bastard ruin. They should have known it was a snake the first time it shed its skin. Down among the dead men, music is not what it used to be, but it never was what it was. In that knowledge, despair! Not to be discouraged by life, a beautiful thing spoils nothing. You're supposed to listen to your gut, not ignore it. Thus A Snake In The Grass was born.  

Throwing a fuck into it and set to move at a pace even they are uncomfortable with. They are curators of misconceptions and false memories. Not everyone has to like you though, you're not a puppy... and now the wolf shall become the shepherd.

The fools love a fool, so hidden under a cloak of madness they become whoever they need to be. Like a fist to the face, persistence is king. With the scent of lightning in the air, this is their life, nothing more. Not content to do what the clock says, their agitated guitars form pockets of madness for a bass that hated every story you ever told. Keyboards and brass will drip water into your sea of desire and rain or shine, drums will make sure you lose. Bollocking onto themselves with guitar solos that sound like an anxiety attack. No one is equipped to review it.  

If you want everything and you’ve never even had a taste of what your mind wants for you. A Snake In The Grass will make sure you got dealt with. I don't know when you will catch them, but it wont be tonight, and it wont be here.