When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city to see a marching band. He said, "Son when you grow up, would you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned?"

aaand.....

Turns out he's making a cult that worships & practices the sensitivity of perpetual depression and angsty social outcasts, then I was framed as the leader, then thrown to the Wylderock