It was twisted at the most...ate your mothers toes for toast? Drifted throught the velvet seam and welcomed another for the beginning of what might would be the ascension of a million crying angels running around in circles screaming why blue around the fringe where the stuff love is made of runs for cover under the soft mushroom ceilings of godsmurfs in the ruling class of peasants buried beneath a sea of sand with thier picture frames and blenders moving at the speed of light you get quantum smoothies