From their earliest days playing local Tulsa gigs, the boys inspired fandemonium.

For silver nor bright snow nor feather of foam Was whiter, and no gold yellower than thine hair, O child, my child; and now thou art lordlier grown, Not lovelier, nor a new thing in mine eyes

In its recoil from the gross anthropopathy of the vulgar notions, it falls into the vacuum of absolute apathy.

We've had another cold snap and the lake has refrozen.