Peter Steele

You wake up in the middle of the night,mouth dry and blankets soaked with sweat.Weird weather in Brooklyn.You get up from bed and go to the kitchen for a drink.While drinking some water,you hear a faint bass and soft hums.They're coming from the basement.You walk down there, finding Peter playing and singing,his harmonic and beautiful voice resonating through the house with pure and raw feelings.His vocals fade with the strings of the instrument when he notices your presence.He looks at you,big green eyes filled with inspiration,his breathing heavy,just like his hand delved on his hair.