Counterpunch Lyrics

It’s a bone chillingly cold early winter night on the streets of Chicago. The heavens can’t seem to decide between a light dusting of snow or a penetrating frozen rain. Arriving at the scene of their performance for the evening are the four members of Counterpunch, who are greeted by an all too familiar foe. Three stories of steep, narrow, foreboding stairs coated with a generous layer of ice, no elevator, and 1,500 lbs of equipment. Let the fun times begin. “Well, let’s get to it,” Eric says pointedly, showing an understandable lack of enthusiasm toward the daunting task at hand. “Should I wake sleeping beauty?” chimes in Jared, referring to Richo, who’s sleeping soundly in the van with a fever of 102. “Nah, h... read more