"Billy was a car crash - all he ever knew was pain. Lived a milli-milli-
milli-second; never born again. Though no one saw him coming, plenty
witnessed his remains - laid a wreath yet they never knew him... Me? I'm
just the rain, laid poor Billy to eternal rest, eternal rust. I soaked the
dust that covers him, I wait for all the others. They all have names...
Red Harry was a bright young spark that flew and burned old London Town in
'66. He flew to bits. He tore it down (bubonic bliss!). And me? I'm just
the kiss our maker blew to put him out. To eternal rest. Eternal rust. To
dust, to ash. I cover up and wait for all the others. We all have names...
Georgie was cut on Hitler's knee. He ran for weeks, turned shades
of green... They kidnapped me and made him clean... On Winter nights, I
still hear him scream. I cover up. I wait for all the others. Jane? Her
mother was a hurricane who swept the plains and sneezed away a continent
with me (the sea). The team that made a myth by hiding it. Became a hit on
Broadway but it wasn't quite the same - they all FORGOT our names. We ALL
have names."


Es pat īsti nevaru sakarīgi aprakstīt, ko šīs dziesmas atklāšana šobrīd dara ar manu prātu un visu apkārtējo pasauli. Virs klaviatūras salst pirksti un šķiet, ka realitātē rodas caurumi, pa kuriem telpā ienak brīnišķīgas lietas no citas pasaules, kurām tu nezini ne vārdu un krāsu, ne funkciju, tikai šīs svešās lietas nav biedējošas, drīzāk tas ir tā, it kā tu patiesībā būtu dzimis uz citas planētas un visu šo laiku neapzināti gaidījis, ka viņi tev atnāks pakaļ. Aiptfu, mind blown. Mūzika ir labākā lieta pasaulē, viss.