Not because the noise stained your eyes, but because there seems to be a hole where all good ideas fall through into a place with bare walls wearing finger marks.
There's a guy down there with an idea colector broom and sweeps it all away into a massive void under a carpet.
And, like dust, they'll not recieve a good defense.
They'll be made up of 75% human skin.
There is no time for heroes, not because the light fell on deaf ears, but because there seems to be a switch in your head where the signal for logic is routed through and someone keeps switching it off.
With good TV, there is no time for heroes.
[Fuck all of your glossy magazines]
It's good to be back in London.
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