All Time High

The garage roller-door flew up. There was no need for the automatic mechanism. The combined might of the raddest home highschool ever witnessed was relentless. Anyway, stun-rockers from the get-go, tramping that shit on down. Down to the ground. A sonic detonation to the last. Damn that dope is the dope! A riff here, a lick there, a nod, a wink, and a sneer. Gibson through Marshall. Fender through Fender, (oh and Ibanez through Music Man). That snares gonna break yo mamas back. Powie! Wowie! Zowie! Yowie? And again!