A signal on a dead channel
Wayfarer
Somewhere east of here a factory is still pressing records,
and nobody remembers ordering them.
Put one on and the machine listens — tempo, weight, attack, noise — and turns what it hears into your weapon, your buildings, your map. It is never wrong about the music. It is frequently wrong about everything else.
One record per descent. Bring something that fights.
Put one on and the machine listens — tempo, weight, attack, noise — and turns what it hears into your weapon, your buildings, your map. It is never wrong about the music. It is frequently wrong about everything else.
One record per descent. Bring something that fights.
Your name is your block. It comes back as you left it
The desk —
Leaderboard
Your stage
Post office —