The Book hit some ears

   noise war, soft-tones spoke  of burning buildings, sharing the night with rats and being haunted by the time bjork was a swan, interlaced with machine gun fire lyrics from a female french policeman, a day-release on a mega-phone and a man with type-face. a tree played a beautiful baritone guitar before sawing another in half…the sound of the strings whip-lashing from their tension a cacophony of spirits all thrashing around held steadfast by a mother of graphic shapes standing over them. The Butcher Of Common Sense screamed forth into a dark new world.

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