Earworm of the morning.

[elfs]

I'm generally opposed to posting lyrics because I don't know that they serve a purpose, but this morning's earworm, completely prompted by nothing I know of (I haven't heard this song in at least a month, maybe longer), needs to get out of my head, so I'm putting it here.

The writer stares with glassy eyes,
Defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined
And streaked with tears of rage.

Thirty years ago, how the words would flow
With passion and precision,
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision.

And he stares out the kitchen door
Where the sun will rise no more...

-- Rush (Neil Peart), "Losing It."

Some mornings are just like that.

Comments

[hydrolagus.livejournal.com]

If you want a new earworm, check out Chelsea Dagger. It's more cheerful and will eat your brain.

[elfs.livejournal.com]

Go here (http://www.jonathancoulton.com/primer/listen) and scroll down to the song "Re: Your Brains" (second song from the top). Then listen to the rest.