Electric Chemistry

The Renaissance Man ducks and runs for cover as his "Tesla" coil spins and sputters out of control. Thru the shimmering fissure between the third and fourth casually accepted dimensions comes a backbeat narrow and hard to master. Hold me tight; I speed at night. It is the force that binds the galaxies to get her. The conductor whips his apean antennae about painting the space of the cathedral with fractally divisible vibrations. The cello girls saw frantically at the pulsing wires, dazed, knighted. Confusion form. The girl's got rhythm. The bitch's got the blues. All feeds streaming; live now!