ballad raze i work your parked car's cockpit in search of a radio station we can both live with. there's nothing but static and the odd voice struggling to be heard through the haze of it. you leave the windows open and the doors unlocked. the waiting area inside the dental clinic overlaps with the places where teeth are being cleaned and extracted and made to feel inferior. all i see are beige salon chairs and beautiful women. we're the odd men out. you look dejected. it could be worse, i tell you. we could be stranded somewhere far from home, dying of thirst. i play you a bruised ballad by a band that's lost its way. the piano i'm saddled with is in tune with itself but a whole step slower than the rest of the world. i would say i never knew a major chord could sound so sad. but that would be a lie. 260707 what's it to you? who go blather from