rick_davies raze if roger hodgson was the soul of what became the supertramp sound, you were the bruised heart hiding in plain sight. the cynic to temper your partner's unrelenting romanticism. the unlit cigarette to his plume of pot smoke. one of my favourite songs you ever sang is buried in the bloated belly of an album your own band disowned moments after it was made. you offer yourself to an actress who doesn't even know you're alive. her indifference does nothing to diminish the depth of your devotion. what might sound desperate in someone else's hands is just the truth of unrequited love in yours. they call it a crush for a reason. what you feel can flatten you when there's no one there to hear the melody that grants it movement. "oh_well," you moan when you realize it's hopeless. defeat never sounded so sweet. 250914 what's it to you? who go blather from