The Crunch All-Stars
The Crunch All-Stars aren’t the problem, just a symptom of a much larger disease. We are the children of your acid flashbacks. On the eight day, God got beligerent, created woman and puked up us. This isn’t the begginning, it’s already over. A new day is here, and it is pissed. Let us cleanse you with our endless, flaming sword. The merciless might we possess is juxtaposed by our unquenchable thirst for the eternal good time. Come take a fat line of justice, America. Usually confrontational, always wasted, never elitist, the Crunch All-Stars are your allies in a world of shit musical attitudes. Dance with us, freedom fighter, because the walls that contain us are self-inflicted. Tear them down: the Grass is always greener on our side.
