Like six people emerging out of a Charles Bukowski story, Far From Finished rises from the pages to remind you just how fucked up life is and just how dangerously humorous our filthy little secrets and insecurities can be. They blaze the tragic line between shame and comfort, leaving no one safe along the way. Every song leads you through a story, an opinion, or cry for help. You're brought back to a time where every breath you drew was innocence, as you fall with every minor and rise with every major.
'Ya got 4 butts in the ashtray and a bottle in the kitchen sink
And you're passed out on your bedroom floor on 4 days worth of stink
Your only dreams floating at the bottom of your glass
Your just wasting away just sitting on your ass
To the church upon the hill beg for forgiveness as for the will