Maynard James Keenan

Tool was never about me — it was a shared scream. A Perfect Circle, a slow bleed. Puscifer? That's where I laugh at the absurdity. I left the city for the Arizona dirt, not to escape, but to dig deeper. My mother's silence, my father's discipline, the desert's patience — all of it carved me into what I am. I don't court the spotlight. I stand in its shadow.