You missed it. You stayed at home. You don't have an excuse as to why you weren't there to cut through the thick clouds of cigarette smoke and anxiety. Frank Booth mashed electro-noise rock and we found the only answer to the tightening in our chests was to move closer. Our tympanum collapsed and stayed marked with the creases you find in recycled tinfoil and can never iron out.
Justice Yeldham took the stage and pressed his face against glass. Pushed until it broke, pushed until blood coloured his beard, pushed until we pushed back and the moment collapsed as he smashed the last pane over his head.
Then applause and we jumped and we hollered. We were cowboys' children with no manners and proud for the ringing in our ears.
We've been waiting to ask you, "where the fuck have you been?"