Hello this is Pat Robertson... instantly plunged into harsh twisted territory. Power Electronics. Squirming distortions, laboured vocal rants huffing and puffing out your chest.
Windsock vibration. Underpass tunnel traffic 60mph Souring feedbacks stirring over lonesome muttering. Glass escalator. Timid approach. A new pair of glasses.
Hashed up windstorm cyclone distorted degraded wall of hurricane fuel. Under the house, metal pipes are disjoining. Alarming, localized bombing, wake the fuck up carnage out some sick & twist.
change the station...
keep going...
Oh the 700club? Yes.
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