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aberrations are invading your stomach. they are that queasy feeling that only a silent night with cold pizza can know or understand.
music, the prime thing about these hornblowers tends to go this way and that but somewhere in the middle too and maybe even over there, to and fro, up and down, and the other way around. whoooosinit anyway? well, i guess there's Tron, me, i say well, let's sing this and play that, and well, why not, eh? and the boys, the gang, the pals, Jess and Oli, they say, hey, we are not men of measles. Jessy the Crush plays real plush with the beat to the sound of his heart. Oli the drake with the mind of a lake and a bass hammer with the flick of his hands.

we play music. we rock the stage. we even dance at night. aberrations.