It gives me a nice peaceful feeling spacey weird stuff punching pounces of sound out of odd objects slippery cymbals clash on the table the pipes of Pan in the song it’s a surreal singalong in swing back to get a better sound the abounding panorama the sexual innuendo bended notes flailing and flaking and flashing what if the world explodes a day of pain stuck with a pin in its stomach until it bleeds more surreal sound what if a porcupine pops its quills in my hands and does head stands the sound will still rise to the skies