one suspects a good time to don your psychedelic shades and strap yourselves in whilst bracing yourselves for a reality fracturing head trip in the company of cosmic beatniks Muertos, for spotted through a sonic long lens and bearing down fast on collision with Earth trajectory hurtles ‘spin’, which with its hazy vapour dissipating tail and fuzzily haloed mass, shimmers and howls resplendently wired upon a blizzard of oblivion veering white out frazzling rapture. Alternatively, happen it might be the most frenzied and frenetic dragster driven dream dazed dandy in pop world right this moment. Heading out of roadkill if you are taking notes, which case you ought to be doing.    


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