Ah, the sweet scent of opium runs deep through your l'il immersion den. Lest the iron pigs intimidate, in these environs it's natural to experience love like a rondo - the theme's vivacious, to be repeated again and again in the key of your subscribed tonic, dear cousin. Crystalline projections, silkily sulfuric and veining in the strata of your frontal lobus, coalesce like gypsum just behind the structure of your eyes, evaporating in the misty liquid of the open air. Breathe deeply, suck it in!... (read more)
Artists in this story: Blues Control