Blastin' out from our Invertebrate Transmitters with valves aglow to push out the sound through pulsing glass, wire, cardboard and ebony-wood cabinets, all ashake and arumble. The popping cones of the speakers bark and tapes spool, spiel and unreel, running on crackling acetate and glistening obsidian shellac - sounds shaped by city-hands, chilly hands, fingers stiff, plucking at E-strings and rattling the snare - a snarl and a stream of sweat show sincerity and 'No Surrender' daubed on walls of grimy brick our creed-
Hey - that's no calypso! ('orse-mout' on drums)
One Love!
Hey - that's no calypso! ('orse-mout' on drums)
One Love!
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