Kareem Noctocromas Kareem Noctocromas
- Words: Ken Micallef
- Label: Zhark
You are in an elevator. In a submarine. The elevator is descending, well below what you know to be the sub‘s lowest floor. Your ears are getting tight. Your head is starting to feel the ultimate ice cream headache. The sound of bending metal, popping bubbles, exploding air pockets and cracking ice begin to invade your personal space. Finally the elevator stops, thrusting you out into a world of frigid water that sucks the life out of you, pushing you down, down, down. Peace at last.
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