It starts with a fed-up girl in a goth black dress, cigarettes stashed in her bra, perched on an outdoor stage surrounded by Marshall amps, as a young man takes a piss in the long, yellow-dry grass. “What’s with all the black?” he asks her as he finishes up. “I’m in mourning for my life,” she replies, squaring up to the barrel of a rifle mounted on the makeshift stage.