The music is tempestous, filling my ears and my head, behind my eyes in bright blue-green circles of rioting and chaos, enough to make me close my eyes. Enough to allow my head to willingly spin, a full, whopping 360 degrees of release into frenzied euphoric solos of the guitar and pounding bass sort. Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is..Oh yes, Gold lion is.
Explosions.
Uh oh.
I want to push and shove anyone, everyone out of my room, this is my time, my space. This is my hangover to deal with, and who are you? (no wisecracks allowed, you don't get that chance.) What to do but sit and marvel at wrecked trains and crashed planes, whose little bitch are you supposed to be anyway? And while we're at it, won't you tell me what it's about?

Ans: Refer to paragraph 1.