groove raze everything that i thought made me who i am is leaving, stolen by strangers who've mastered the art of breaking into a house without making a sound. i whale on one of them with the nearest thing to a weapon i've got, battering braincase with birch baton. the man stands and stares. not one bit of damage dealt. i understand. you can't kill what's already gone. i watch these dream thieves drive away in a polypropylene bus, poised to pawn all the pieces of a life they've pilfered from a crumbling crooner, and wrap a rubber_band around an empty tissue box. one string is all i need to build a bass line good enough to groove to. 260712 what's it to you? who go blather from