There were five of them, five abreast going way back into the rising sun so I couldn't see how far back they went, all carrying trumpets, all marching double-time, shaking the earth with each beat, suddenly riping their helmets off and throwing them onto the road, raising their trumpets to their lips, 2-3-4, then a sudden blast, wail of all thousand horns coming in all at once, and the sound was terrifying and the sound was joyous and the multitudes of horns were sounding the arrival, and the angels had cast down their helmets of war and came embracing the fallen planet, and the dead rose up and were reconstructed, and the multitude was singing with the mighty horns, each lost to himself, yet found again, dancing and swirling, pulsing, endlessly streaming, rising from the ground, filled with vibration and light, blinding light, blinding white light, whiter than any before, whiter than white.

That's how white your clothes can get with Cheer.

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