The bass man came to the mouthless studio, tha' same dwelling where we've been conjuring hymns for the dark lord and interdimensional beings. As he was thumping, the ancient bASS from his blood tribe, under the quarter moon that sat northeast of Venus, one thought pin balled in my wretched mind...'Naughty'. Nick's being naughty with that instrument and it's making me... feel things.
He continued to thump along. Deep into the night he plucked and cupped and slapped and cracked the metal rope…Read more