Three words: Holy fucking shitballs

This was my 30th show and I happened to be hitting the jazz cabbage heavily during Meat.
By the time Antelope started, I knew I was in trouble..
Trey took my soul, loaded it in a cannon and shot it out into space.
My entire existence had been shattered like piece of glass falling off of a 17 story building.

The Gin and Everything's Right provided a much needed cool down with some heavy improvisation to bring me back to down Earth.

Only to give us a Frankie Says which is my goddamn first name.
That's right, check my birth certificate bitch.

I am not saying that fate exists, I am in no way putting out there that destiny is among us, but this being my 30th show happened for a reason.

This is objective.