you slide along me, like
a squeak and thrill
of fingertip on strings
along chunk chug chords
with drive, in a line
and nothing but beat
coming up behind
well you can't stop now,
and neither can I but
this is nothing like beautiful music
we make
since we're not recording,
we'll play back the tape
and fix everything, perfect
and fake
in one take
This imagery is perfectly woven in without belaboring. It is seamless.
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