Cauldrons of sweat and despair boil over the tops and brim out. Questions circulate... where, when, why, please god why?!? No one questions what that cauldron spillage will do to the linoleum, isn't that shit invincible? But it's not, and soon the crowd begins to sink into an ever growing depression in the middle of the floor. Flesh upon flesh, bone upon bone, the bodies pile ever higher. No one speaks, no one screams. This is what is supposed to happen they believe. "My destiny is to ascend from this god-forsaken rock show tonight." Man, people will believe anything. But, as the souls arise, someone quickly hits the ceiling fan....  Later, as amnesia sinks ever deeper, emotions run wild with no preformed memories to hold onto. So you understand, it is in these high ceilings - in these withered, shaken rafters. It is high up here, where the souls of rock and roll dance with the lost memories of one's greatest youth...this is where we dwell. Please only be afraid if absolutely neccessary. ABK of TBM