Tipppppppp on the Tightropeby: Jennifer

The song I picked for this challenge, Janelle Monae’s “Tightrope,” was sparked by an offhand about my clothes–an outfit I had crafted in homage to Ms. Monae’s signature black and white gear for the closing weeks of school.  A friend and I broke out spontaneously in “Tightrope” and I realized that was the feeling I had wanted to consider–and feel and think and be– on repeat for the challenge.

The choice of song had been difficult for me, not for the “cool” factor (as would have certainly pervaded my thoughts in my teenage years) but because I am much more aware of music’s power–and I wanted to use the music to “get correct” and get into a good headspace–at this point in the semester (and as a mother to a preschooler and an active scholar coming up on tenure) throwing off my game with something mopey, melancholy, or treaccly was not going to happen.

Because I am on the tightrope.  And its a thin line.

Honestly, I loved this challenge. In part because I listened to the song over and over in my car with my kid–who not only loves listening to songs on repeat, but prefers it.  We learned the song together, over and over, picking out new and different parts on each replay–making the car bounce at the stoplights from our dancing and vibing along.  We laughed all day when he would, at the grocery store or the library, turn to me and quote lines from the song: “‘Now that’s what I call classy brass.’  [pause]  Mommy, what’s ‘classy brass’?” He still requests the song whenver we get in the car (alternating with Bruno Mars’s “Locked Out of Heaven.”  So I experienced the sheer pleasure of repetition for its own sake and my son’s proclivity to get fixated on a song is intriguing rather than annoying to me.  Rather it is my adult quest for new and different and “shuffling” that seems a little strange sometimes.

In addition, the repetition really engrained the song’s emotional signature into my psyche.  I began to realize how much the song calmed me–and I began to seek it out, for example, when I had bad news or when I was late and frantically trying to get somewhere.  it made my lane changes smoother, while reminding me to keep my cool.  don’t rush things will fall into line.  I can call up that same feeling as I type up this late entry–I’m worth the wait, Janelle Monae’s tone says, and I got this–an emotional note that had a lingering affect much longer than 24 hours of repetition.  I did not feel a sense of relief or release when the experiment was over like I thought I did, but rather more firmly enmeshed in the song’s sonic and emotional hold.  In JM’s words, she “put some Voodoo on It.” for sure.

 

Reflections on Listening to a Song by Rammstein on Repeatby: Amy

I asked a friend to suggest a song – the song selected: “Ich Will” by Rammstein.

It was a good choice as I hadn’t heard the song and I had no previous emotional attachment to it.

The following is a story about listening to the song on repeat for one full day.

Sorry for mispronouncing, Rammstein! (also recorded the story in two parts: present, then past reflections)

Reflections on Anthems for a 17 y/o Girlby: Brian

On April 19, 2013 I listened to Broken Social Scene’s “Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl” on repeat. The song provided an eerie soundtrack to the hunt for the Boston Marathon Bombing suspects. As I sat in the newsrooms of CBC, listening and working, I reflected inwardly. Click here to get a sense of what that day was like for me.

LISTENING TO THE SAME SONG OVER AND OVERby: Caroline

So, I’m feeling kind of shitty today; got turned down by a romantic interest, got a cold, feel numb, I guess it might be the best moment to do the challenge #4, the Soundtrack, and to choose a song that makes me feel really good to try to shake the dark thoughts away.

I choose a song from Beck I just recently discovered while listening to his entire catalog. The first time I heard the song, it gave me shivers and instant and intense pleasure just from hearing the first seconds. I’m not exactly sure what it is about the song that gives me this feeling, but somehow the slow pacing and the harmonies of the instruments and voices hit just the right spot and gives me a deep feeling of calm and relaxation.

I listen to the song from my computer, and then decide to listen to it from the stereo. A whole new layer of bass comes to life and it makes me shiver again. As I wash the dishes, I start to sing along, adding my voice to the harmony, and I can feel the song vibrating from inside my chest.

Heading out for a meeting, I put the headphones on and play that song on repeat. The song gives me a feeling of melancholia, which I quite like usually. It suits well the strange snowy day we are having in mid april. As I wait for the metro, I realize the song doesn’t really have the quality of cheering me up anymore, quite the opposite actually; I feel myself sliding into sorrow, tears pop up in my eyes.

After the meeting I go to a bazar, still with the headphones on. I go through the chaos of discarded stuff, trapped in my bubble of rumination and dark thoughts. I have to take the headphones off to talk to the owner and pay my purchase, and suddenly I feel liberated. I don’t put them back.

WALLSby: Steven

For this week I listened to the song – Make Me Stop by Yahweh.
I wanted to show the repetition, but also the pattern of the song. I concluded the best method to express this was via photography.

I also wanted to express the texture of the song and the layers of the different soundscapes. I saw this interesting wall in my travels and thought that i t could be repeated easily, thus showing the repetition of the song. In closer look the wall has many textures and patterns which also expresses what I wanted to present with this week’s task.

 

The soundtrack of my journeyby: Joël

One day, one song. Pretty hard for a music addict like me. Anyway, I chose a song unless it is the song that imposed to me. I applied some treatments to it as if it was stretched out over a day and I overlayed field recordings gathered while commuting: sounds of nature, machines and people.

In addition, the figure below shows the typical daily trip from my home to my work and back in a space-time cube. Space is represented by X and Y coordinates while the Z-axis shows time. Thus the vertical lines imply no movement during work and lunchtime.

 

Watchful Waitingby: Roxane

 

Somehow I didn’t get this challenge until quite late this week, so I have only started listening to the music today. I chose Handel’s Passacaglia (after the Passacaille from the Harpsichord Suite No. 7 in G minor) played by Lynn Harrell and Nigel Kennedy.

I actually enjoyed listening to it repeatedly. The incessant repetition was almost soothing. It reminded me of what it feels like to care for and spend time with my mother, who has dementia. When I am with her, everything seems repetitive until a totally unpredictable glitch kicks in. My life with her is full of surprises, sometimes infuriatingly frustrating, but also meaningful and interesting.

My mother can’t remember most of the present very well at all. Routine and repetition characterise my time with her. I am hoping to use this Challenge to begin to try to make something of  the repetition in her questions and thoughts by recording our conversations at meals and in the waiting rooms for medical appointments.

Some of her stories make her light up with enthusiasm as she recounts them.  Her relentless questions stress me but don’t seem to worry her.  So far I’ve not been quick enough to capture many of those moments when she enjoys her own memory.

 

 

A Series of Harvest Moonsby: Paul

April 17th, 2013 (8:20 a.m. – 8:29 p.m.)

1st listen (8:20 a.m.), 2nd listen (8:37 a.m.), 3rd listen (8:42 a.m.), 4th listen (8:46 a.m.), 5th listen (8:57 a.m.), 6th listen (10:12 a.m.), 7th listen (10:18 a.m.), 8th listen (10:23 a.m.), 9th listen (10:28 a.m.), 10th listen (10:33a.m.) 11th listen (10:38 a.m.) 12th listen (1:02 p.m.), 13th listen (1:07 p.m.), 14th listen, (1:12 p.m.), 15th listen (1:16 p.m.), 16th listen (1:21 p.m.), 17th listen (1:27 p.m.), 18th listen (1:32 p.m.), 19th listen (2:33p.m.), 20th listen (2:40 p.m.), 21st listen (2:46 p.m.), 22nd listen (2:52 p.m.), 23rd listen (2:59 p.m.), 24th listen (3:06 p.m.), 25th listen (3:11 p.m.), 26th listen (3:16 p.m.), 27th listen (3:21 p.m.), 28th listen (3:26 p.m.), 29th listen (3: 31 p.m.), 30th listen (4:26 p.m.), 31st listen (4:31p.m.), 32nd listen (4:36 p.m.), 33rd listen (4:42p.m.), 34th listen (4:50), 35th listen (4:56 p.m.), 36th listen (6:02 p.m.), 37th listen (6:07), 38th listen (6:12 p.m.),39th listen (6:17 p.m.), 40th listen (6:22 p.m.), 41st listen (6:27 p.m.), 42nd listen (6:30), 43rd listen (6:35 p.m.), 44th listen (6:40 p.m.), 45th listen(6:45 p.m.), 46th (6:50), 47th listen (6:55 p.m.), 48th (7:00 p.m.), 49th listen (7:05 p.m.), 50th listen (8:24 p.m.)

 

1st Listen (8:20 a.m)

Dressed, fed, and my survival kit is packed: headphones, laptop, good coffee (as good as I can get in Moriguchi), and whipping cream. Not a coffee culture. Off to school I go. I say school, because its definitely not work.

I pop in my headphones, and I’m reminded where my chronological Neil Young binging ended. Half way through Harvest Moon, the sweet sadness of the title track begins. I place the cardboard and plastic garbage by the curb, as its the third Wednesday of the month . Plastics only on the 1st and 4th Wednesday, of course. An instruction a day, keeps anarchy at bay. I unlock my bike, doing the best I can to accommodate the salary-men sleep walkers who don’t do the same for me. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line (Look straight. Don’t fuss. Don’t stick out. Look tired. Be tired. Work long. Don’t work hard. Don’t stick out. Colour inside the lines. Inside the lines!) And off I go. I pass the grocery store as Neil starts to sing, “because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dance again”. It’s the moment I realize this is the only song I will listen to today.

The song found me. Like all the art I love, it doesn’t explain itself. It just reveals itself. In that moment of exhibition, I get flashes from early high school. Long hair, long face. My brand of misery loved company, and the company I kept came in the form of a Panasonic Shockwave disc man. I could have never guessed that 15 years later I would be living in the city where that same source of joy was manufactured, minutes from where I now write this.

As the song plays on, I remember being in the kitchen with my mom listening to this album, remembering how sounds sounded in that kitchen, embarrassed by her slow dancing in a way only moms know how. I recall listening to the song, and somehow being reminded of heartbreak and heartache I hadn’t yet experienced.

I remember Harvest Moon having this reputation of being an easy listening album. Dental office pablum. At the time though, I just loved it. A guilty pleasure, so deemed by the pressures of friends who didn’t love it. Being older now, I’ve learnt how to give in to my inclinations, appreciating the things I like with justification for that appreciation falling by the wayside. Along with those people who required them.

Gore Vidal said, it doesn’t matter what people think of you; It matters what you think of them. This has been my mantra since being back in Osaka. It’s certainly my mantra this morning as I sing along loudly and proudly, passing the salary men and their replacements who now take the shape of high school students.

Overwhelmed by the ghost I will become once I arrive at school, the looks of confusion I still get after being in this same city for two years, the song now takes on new meaning. I pedal faster swerving between potholes, sewer grates and entitled pedestrians. I imagine being back in Canada, this song playing on the wind. No need for headphones. Just a self-propelled boy on the open road.

I pull into the school gates. “Goodo morningu!”. That rare moment when a student greets me before I do. “Good morning”, I say. “How are you?”, I ask. “Good morning!”, he answers back. Some people are stuck on good morning. Me, I’ve already had my coffee.

9th listen (10:28 a.m.)

Warm, grey day. The students aren’t as annoying today. I feel like they’re giving me a chance today. Not dismissive. Not racist. One class down, and three to go. The song has me on the verge of tears. I want to cry as an act of defiance. I want these robots to see what it looks like to be honest, to give in. To be emotional, beyond the two words they use to describe every seeming experience. To see if they would ask me, “What’s wrong?” “Are you OK?”. “Do you want to talk?”. They can’t see me. I am a ghost. There’s no greater loneliness than being surrounded by people, and being invisible. A leper. An alien. The other. Different. God forbid. Different.

And yet, these thoughts don’t prevent the song from seeping in. The interplay of guitars, melodious and glorious noise. A miracle of steel, and wood, and flesh. The repetitive “ffffffff-shhh” of the broom on the studio floor. Hook-laden music, just the way I like it. A well-crafted song goes a long way. I wish I could write such a seemingly simple song.

12th listen (1:02 p.m.)

The song has become an escape from the side effects of this experience. I press play, and it calms me down.

Minutes ago, I was standing at the back of the class. I am an invited guest, relegated to ornament. A trinket from a far away land. Unable to understand a word of the English lesson because none of it is in English. I am not asked to help. The teacher butchers the phonics lesson as sweat runs down his fat, bland face. He wipes his brow with his hand towel, an act which announces the approaching summer: lung-sticking humidity, rivers of sweat in places one shouldn’t need to sweat. The impact and the implications of these observations are cushioned as once again the song seeps in. The weight, the pressure, the anger, the frustration, washed away. No one in this room, in this school, in this city, save the few other ornaments that adorn classrooms across this city, have ever heard this song. It’s mine. I would like to share it with them, but they’re too busy.

26th listen (3:16)

At 2:30, with the last period of the day behind me, I was free to ride home, basking in the now visible sun,  to make my lunch. Neil sings and plays as I clean the morning dishes, and fry up some fish in a lemon, butter, and curry sauce for lunch. And suddenly, the song changes from  escape, to soundtrack. Still humming along, still harmonizing at the sweet bits, I find my appreciation for the song has changed again. When life becomes bright again, both metaphorically and meteorologically, noises certainly do change. It’s back to school to eat my lunch, and find my place inside the concrete bunker.

36th listen (6:02)

Third coffee fuel, and satisfyingly fed, I make my way home again. I lose the race to the express train, as it rumbles and shakes the space above me. The sun is still out and it is a glorious spring day. The other side of the coin. The pendulum has swung back.

Things feel different save the constant of the one song that has kept me company all day. I don’t know how many more times my thoughts towards this song will change, or in what way they will change. It occurred to me at some point during the day: is it my experience of the day that has shaped my experiencing this song, or is it the song that has shaped the day and the things I’ve felt? Todays don’t happen in a vacuum.

I experienced a powerful earthquake, my first ever, which lasted about 10 seconds this past Saturday. That was a long, terrifying, ten seconds. I imagined a lower case “i” when talking about myself after this experience. These things make you ask, how am I spending my time? Is this where I want to be? This song has tied this all to a longing to be back in Canada. The wide open space, the familiarity of the landscape, the colours that extend beyond the monochrome of a crowded satellite city. Because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dance again.

50th listen, (8:42 p.m.)

It’s the morning after my twelve hour experience of listening to one song. I was humming it as I fell asleep and it was the first thing out of my mouth this morning. Like a compulsion, I had to sing it. Yesterday feels like a dream. A song made me feel like I dreamt a day.

At 8:42 last night, I listened to Harvest Moon for the last time. A psychologically satisfying, and accidental, 50 times. It was a perfect experience: the sky was clear, the moon was bright, and the night felt as it should. I rode my bike the long way home before meeting a friend.

There’s no great realization. There’s no “what does it all mean?”. Not every experience requires a summation. It was an experience I’ll never forget. I just can’t really say why. Todays don’t happen in a vacuum.

Heavy rotation: in which I use the power of pop music to send Margaret Thatcher spinning to her graveby: Damon

'The Day Margaret Thatcher Dies' by Pete Wylie

On April 17th 2013, I listened to one song and one song only. I listened to it relentlessly, over and over again. Under normal circumstances this would have been simply eccentric behaviour, but on this day, it was an act of defiance. Canute-like, maybe; but necessary, nevertheless.

Because April 17th was the day of Margaret Thatcher’s funeral.

And the piece I listened to was Pete Wylie’s ‘The Day Margaret Thatcher Dies’ – that’s Margaret Thatcher, British Prime Minister from 1979 until 1990, and certainly the most divisive leader this country has had in a long time.

This act of inhumanity in the face of death brought a lot of raw emotions to the surface. The result is this poem – or rhyming rant – written for performance, not for the page.

Alas, I don’t have a studio or fancy microphones, which is why it sounds a little as though it was recorded in a biscuit tin. And be warned that some listeners may find this piece distasteful and offensive. And others, particularly those overseas, will probably just find it inexplicable.

But anyway; enough. For a final few words, let’s turn to the woman herself: “Where there is despair, may we bring hope.”

Hmm. Now press ‘PLAY’…

techno elocution classby: Caspar

Listening to a track that much, you got to have a go yourself.

In a late night burst of energy, I used my dad’s broken harmonica, a bass jew’s harp and a high pitch jew’s harp to record separate tracks by playing along to what (I thought) I could hear.

Most fun was teaching my collaborator jlai how to pronounce the German lyrics to do the voice recording until I finally threw  all the tracks together in a truly cavalier fashion.

The original Track is Dein Schweiss by Sven Väth.

Stayby: Danielle

 

This song is a melodic love song – simple and lovely.  However, if you have ever been in a relationship that is somewhat tumultuous, I think you would feel the heartbreak, in particular the need – whether right or wrong or healthy or toxic – for someone to STAY.

Drawbridge – Kingsway & The Weber Brothersby: Kate

I have two confessions to make. I have long been guilty of listening to one song or album for hours at a time.  Many of my paintings (and one would never guess from their content) are bound to individual albums played nonstop. To me, music first becomes a means of transport and then greets you as an old friend at the end of the journey.

Confession # 2 – I had told myself I didn’t have time to do Challenge #4, but coincidentally received the new Kingsway album the day the Challenge was announced. While some of these songs were already welcome and familiar, a new one stood out. Over the last week, it’s walked me from downtown to home, followed me to the tennis courts, sparked memories, and reminded me what I love about spring.

The video is rough, but it’s a window on my current reverie.

Kingsway & The Weber Brothers, DDG Records, 2013

The Soundtrack: Atoms for Peaceby: Elizabeth



 

 

I just couldn’t bring myself to listen to one song, and one song only all day long. So my solution was to listen to one album all day long, over and over, hours on end. “Atoms for Peace” was my pick and a great choice.

I found myself in a movement of electronic beats and rhythmic guitar riffs. The movement was fluid and circular and kept its momentum. The drawing mimics the repetitious sounds and melodies, but still has variance.

Living with Ghostsby: Laura

 

“And if we stay swimming here forever, we will never be free.”

I postponed my song choice until the end of the week, settling one album eventually, “Living with Ghosts” by Patti Griffin, and then vacillating between tracks for a while before focusing on “Forgiveness.” Admittedly, my choice was heavily swayed by sentimentality and nostalgia. It’s been a rough week, capped off by a flooding today in Chicago. But the experience of repetition was comforting. Although I’ve listed to Patti for years now, the starkness of this album, which is driven by powerful vocals  and the guitar, conveying raw emotion through melancholic lyrics.  Driving around a rainy and flooding city, the lines, “We are swimming with the snakes at the bottom of the well/so silent and peaceful in the darkness where we fell/but we are not snakes and what’s more, we never will be/and if we stay swimming here forever we will never be free,” seemed appropriate. The refrain, “It’s hard to give/It’s hard to get/Everybody needs a little forgiveness,” did inspire me to move out of my funk and get through the day.

Challenge # 4: The Sound Trackby: Barbara

If this flash player is not loading for you please click the link below to play your audio file.

takeourlove1101038036In my walks with my chosen song, “Take Our Love,” the revelation that came

is that music is the thread that holds the world together. Everywhere I looked, people

were listening to their own soundtracks and going about their lives. It is impossible

to imagine that we could revert to a world of silence in which there are no connections to

music we create for each other.

many days of listening to the rolling stones Sympathy for the Devil and one day processing it. Noise challenge four!!by: Thendara

If this flash player is not loading for you please click the link below to play your audio file.

Noise challenge four many days of listening one day of configuring- here we go . it sounds like i may be mental at this point.

inspiration Rolling stones Sympathy for the Devil

woo woo

got my daughter’s shaker out and sang in different areas of my house, then warped it to all bloody hell as I couldn’t stand listening to my own voice.

doing this after too many days listening to the song made me sweat.

It felt like a buildup that needed to explode.

a zit, a volcano, an insect larvae beneath the skin waiting to burst forth and make you feel never again the same about tropical places.

woo woo

sympathy

woo woo

ok this song is now really apart of life that needs a break at this point.

we listened to this for nearly the whole week in the car and one day solidly.

i will let this track sleep for a bit and branch out in music once again.

wooo wooo.

Soundtrackby: Mike

 Soundtrack

Radian- Subcolors (Chimeric, 2009)

I still am worried about how I would approach this challenge. My first stress evolved around what do I want to listen too for this extended period of time. My mind flew through my music library when I decided I would use Martin Brandlmayr’s electro-acoustic trio Radian. Austrian percussionist/drummer Brandlmayer has been pushing buttons for me since I heard a duet recording with guitarist Martin Siewert and how I travelled through Switzerland with the disc on repeat.

Don’t get me wrong Radian’s release Chimeric, 2009 has been a favourite of mine especially when it pops up on shuffle. I’m always at first taken a back. There is a wondrous beauty to their dis-fragmented sound construction.

The First Play

As I stated above I was familiar with what they do but they seem so fresh everytime I hear their music. So I’m off to a doctor’s appointment and I know this is the time to start this challenge. Public transit and wait times always allow for listening fodder. I’m thinking even before I start listening how do I approach this? I place on my headphones and start off to the streetcar. The project begins. The music starts and the guitar is torn apart, not in a metal way but against the assumptions placed on what you are to do with a guitar. An unamplified strum, clicks and pops of an effects pedal about to be pushed, wait, I’m not supposed to hear that! Then the pedal is pushed and the sound one might expect from a guitar is released. I’m startled, where is the finesse, it sound like a mistake, but as I listen it isn’t a mistake, it is a readymade. Small sounds start to occur, pings maybe bells, processing then Brandlmyer drags a brush across his snare, Crisp, clear and distinct. A Bass drum and there is a rhythm. Wait a rhythm an unlikely character to show up in this escapade. This not a usual tool to be found in their sound kit, I thought.  The rhythm is haunting and infectious.

I want you to know time is not a factor in my listening choices or the sounds I create. So, this was a pleasant surprise. Feedback loops, stretched sounds, processed noises combined with all the wrong sounds scared even more than the initial apprehensions as I have now committed to this soundtrack challenge.

I walk past west end houses all compact, two floors if anything like mine its two bedrooms, possibly a third in the basement. The area in which I live is all paved over. There are few lawns or gardens just driveways. It is a working class neighbourhood. The driveway hold the vehicles needed to work, pickup trucks and mini vans fill the driveways most of the time, but it is midmorning and most have left for work. I reach the bottom of the street and the streetcar arrives promptly. A class of elementary school students is entering the streetcar I have to assume it’s a school trip. I take a seat by the window. There are not many riders and at this point I have listened to Sub Colours a number of times and I’m definitely disappearing, Immersion is almost there. The streetcar starts moving towards my destination.

 

The Eighth Play

The sounds are mesmerizing as I’m still totally surprised when things appear in the music. It has started to become affectual, shivers run up my spin and at times subtle and unknown noises act as specters and set my arm hairs standing on end. My mind is trying to come up with a concept of how to demonstrate this work of art into a work of art. How can this be my soundtrack and how am I to react? While concern is definitely multiplying my mind starts to escape the fear through an analysis of what I was listening to. How close are the microphones, I swear I can hear the snare drum breathing. Everything you are not to hear is evident. It makes my skin crawl in such a good way. I try to find where everything I coming from, who is creating this symphony of joy. It is intriguing,. I’m so lost in the noise. I am as Deleuze and Guattari call, The Body Without Organs. It’s a location where immersion is so deep that you lose track of time, place and yourself. Fuck, where did that come from, again I’m taken a back by a sound that I have heard now almost countless times and I was caught by surprise. That brush being dragged across the snare drum. So crisp so clean, I can hear every indentation, speck of dust and grain in the drumhead as the snared is caressed. Hints of a drone or is it feedback, it is so subtle quiet like a train travelling by in the distance on a warm summers night. I try to dig deeper, how is it done. I’m in love.

I’m at the first subway station along the streetcars route and everyone is leaving the streetcar. I guess it has been short turned. Time to go back for once it came. So I’m a bit lost. Not physically but so entrenched in the sound running from ear to ear engulfing my brain. I have to remember where I’m going and not let routine become my instinct and walk to the subway. I head over to the eastbound streetcar stop and wait. There is a small line up mainly passengers from my streetcar then I realize the class trip that also was travelling on my streetcar, have disappeared. How did I miss that I was even close to the back exit of the streetcar? Well, the next streetcar boarded us and off I went on another part of my journey. I sat down and bye I was gone. Engulfed in the power of beauty.

Mike Hansen

You did this to me, Deniseby: Kathryn

Denise Ing and I added a new level to the challenge by choosing what the other would listen to. Denise chose Stop Me if You’ve Heard this One Before by The Smiths. You can find it on You Tube. Lyrics below:

Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you’ve
Heard this one before
Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before

Nothing’s changed
I still love you, oh, I still love you
…Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love

I was delayed, I was way-laid
An emergency stop
I smelt the last ten seconds of life
I crashed down on the crossbar
And the pain was enough to make
A shy, bald, buddhist reflect
And plan a mass murder
Who said lied I’d to her ?

Oh, who said I’d lied because I never ? I never !
Who said I’d lied because I never ?
I was detained, I was restrained
And broke my spleen
And broke my knee
(and then he really laced into me)
Friday night in Out-patients
Who said I’d lied to her ?

Oh, who said I’d lied ? – because I never, I never
Who said I’d lied ? – because I never

Oh, so I drank one
It became four
And when I fell on the floor …
…I drank more

Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you’ve
Heard this one before
Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before

Nothing’s changed
I still love you, oh, I still love you
…Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love

After listening to this song repeatedly over a 24 hour period, I really did relate to the words in the second last verse.

Head over to Tumblr to see my response: http://tmblr.co/ZcGnSsj0BRuN