The blood spilled into the nook in search of the elusive cranny. Thick, lucid and controlled by gravity and even flow, the former inner was determined to stay an outer. The flowing richness of spewing crimson made its way past Dingly Dell, which is where our story beings its relevance.
Amongst the gurgling on the surface of the floating remains of puree'd soft tissue, a reflection could be seen. At first glance it looked like a cacophony of hard rock visual and audio naughtiness, but on closer inspection it was just the four kunzis who make up brisbanes WE BECOME GHOSTS.
It was at this exact location that the river of red ebbed and started to congeal, content on remaining still and enjoying the musical mayhem on offer from our minions of melody, our hard rock heroes, our melodic masters, the fanny four............................

Leading the charge of infringing on personal space via the context of insistent manical rantings is LEWD SCOFF. Armed with guitar and tantrum, we have always expected more drama than  the entire back catalogue of readers digest from this melodic metaller. 

Many would think that LAYERS hates all skin stretched across metal and wood, but alas, hes a drummer, and drums are made that way. He hits shit with sticks pretty much.........so if you want a good solid stick beating from a solid back-up harmonist, skin yourself, replace your bones with wood, and your flesh with a carbon based alloy then reskin yourself. Detach your left hand and insert a foot controlled pulley system that connects to your teeth. Cut off your penis and sew it back on upside down on your right hand and squat with your new kick penis pedal  hand on ground but in front of your stomach which you have previously had gutted and stuffed with a pillow. Back of the heads as a snare and your inline to become the worlds first human drumkit........happy with yourself? 

Ever wondered how they make those sounds at the traffic lights when your waiting to cross the road? Or maybe the sound of your own subconscious trying to grasp the concept of annonomity via your own political and religious virtues crossfaded with the seductive tone of snapping teeth?  Well we did, so we asked FRANK TRAVESTY how its done.
While he didn't he give us any releveant answers to the aforementioned questions, he did rock up with his key thing (you know like yanni) and he makes it all come together rather nicely. 

'I wish this guy who lives on the north side of lame vegas would reply to our ad in the rave mag and inquire as to whether he would be abke to play the bass guitar for the wbg's' farted lewd one day.

the next day, tommy, who lived on the north side of lame vegas, rang lewd in response to his ad he had placed in the rave magazine requesting a bass player.

they all fell in love......

sorted.