It Makes Too Much

Noises are nights that come from the whole.
Down in the hole I am the pet of my noises.
We all make special noises when born.
We learn noises from lightning, falling, and money.
You could have several noises no one else has.
In the hole there are biters and flying flowers.
Sounds have fingers and ears in food.
Back when we got started, it was mostly light.
Except electrical ghosts and the seed of god.
These damn sounds wear me around like a knot.
The special pet of disasters and their noises.