You’re somewhere in America. On a beach. There’s a broken-down carnival there. You’re attracted by the sound of plucked guitars and raised voices. Night falls. The creak of a rotted boardwalk. Faded posters for acts you’ve never heard of. A freakshow choir huddles behind the cracked slats of a holding pen. You’re lost. A clown appears to one side of you, stinking of gasoline and dried semen. A needle sinks into your arm. There is a shriek of joy.

“Born Again,” from HOLIDAY HOLINIGHT by The Great Valley.