harry_nilsson raze i was trying to work out why you're always past your prime when i see you in my dreams. you're never the rubber_band boy with the impossible voice, inventing wordless wonder seconds_before_the_fade. you're the old forgotten soldier, post-"pussy cats", sporting scars that only begin to explain the self-made hell you've endured. you breathe in deep and force fractured melodies through callused vocal cords. you're a second heart_attack waiting to happen, singing the song that made you famous to an indifferent audience of affluent assholes. two and a half steps back from where you started. killing yourself to get through the chorus. you're a brilliant album that wasn't deemed commercial enough to hit the streets. you're the grime caked into the grooves and the dust that dances when the record plays. now i think i know the reason you keep coming to me as something less than what you were when you still believed in miracles. we're always at our most beautiful when we're broken. 251211 what's it to you? who go blather from