I couldn't stand this bland sound any more so I walked towards my deck to turn it off
All I could see was the B-side of the disc which had assumed a doughnut shape with the label on the outside rim
I reached for the arm which was less than one micron long but weighed more than Saturn and time stood still
I knew I had to escape but every time I tried to flee, the record was in front of me
Without using any words that really name my current set of emotions, this snippet of a tune seems to express the actual feelings. And who needs a name for it when the feeling is so rich and textured?
I think it's likely that two or three of you will understand. When you get there, think of me. If you don't get it, don't try too hard. Just let it go free and see what it does.
Someday, we'll all look back on this and laugh. It's true: Every time I try to flee the same old thing is in front of me. With apologies to The Human League, I'll travel on but I will be true.
