Something went badly wrong.
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At first we didn't notice. We got used to bumping about together and stepping
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on each other's toes. Funny how that happens.
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We felt it in different ways. Some people thought they were getting bigger or
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their skin was over-sensitive and they needed to insulate themselves with
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something. But others felt squeezed, choked, and confined and sought open
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spaces which they never found.
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But the world was getting smaller and smaller. It was like a balloon going
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down. Everything getting tiny, brighter, more intense and squashed up together.
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It was cluttered, uncomfortable - you couldn't find anywhere to sit down.
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I was everybody's mother in nightly tears before the television news. My
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children in floods, sackings and revolution. It was all going sour. It was all
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going sour.
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I was scrubbing individual stones on a huge beach. I was making sandwiches for
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the whole of Somalia. I was shouting 'Fire!' in a thousand languages. I was
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plugging a million dykes with my failing fingers. I was baking languages in a
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million fires. I extended trillions of fine wires. I was scrubbing fingers upon
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a beach in Wales. I was firing nights...
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I was suddenly very tired.
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How do I miss you. Really miss you.
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(indecipherable)...
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In one bigger bay
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You gave all the frozen wind
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You gave them away
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Set up, boy, set up
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The boys set up for the show
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No one who was there last night
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Gave out or ought to know
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Set up, boy
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Set up my boys
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Below that river bend
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It's all that we take care of
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It's all we have to show
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-----------------
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Every Mother/Step Up
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Brian Eno |