Allison Prosser Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Horehound’s a bitch, mates—spiky, bitter, sticks everywhere. Farmers hate it, cows won’t touch it, ha! Makes me cackle—useless green shit takin’ over! Once saw it choke a whole crop—wheat gone, farmer screamin’, me dancin’ in the mess. “We’re not finished, are we?”—like Mia yellin’ at her mum. Love that flick, raw as horehound’s stink.

Gabriel Prosser's Plot

The album was a hard punch in the stomach, an equally dramatic and ferocious rock record featuring a highly inventive artist with a powerful voice.

I quit bein’ all buttoned-up and let my inner wild child speak. Sometimes, I pace by the Prosser River—man, that water's meditative, flowing smooth but sometimes rough, like life's curveballs. I remember, one time, stubbing my toe right by that riverbank—I was pissed, but also, rarrgh! There’s magic in that pain, right? Haha, so typical me.

Obituary information for Gary Douglas Prosser