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You're in a dark room. There's no sound, no sight.
Suddenly, a light appears, soft and flickering, from behind an opaque screen.
There is the sound of a guitar gently humming.
Four men in black are silhouetted. They have their instruments in hand. Instruments of destruction.
This is a funeral parlor. We are here to pay our respects to the music of the past. We're here to shake the Paper Walls.