Echos from a bygone era of expertise race around you as you careen down these sewers of sound, lead guitar solos leap with rusty scimitars, strange organs slither over you on the damp roof, a growling bass snaps at your ankles, a misshapen banjo scuttles across your path, and, all the while, barbarians shake
the seed-filled skulls of the dead.
Playful vocals sing of your frail organic nature, the sad dreams and hopes that you entertain, and the dismal decisions you make. Scenes of a different imagination tear you like brittle canvas and rearrange your portrait into another's fantasy.
Upon your exit from Maisieworld, you will be pleasantly surprised to find that your vessel is now filled with abnormal thoughts.
Caution : May contain nuts. And bolts.