Andy Ross, then deputy head honcho at Food Records, opens up his briefcase in Camden's Devonshire Arms. Inside is an inferior brand personal stereo with no discernible bottom end. Excitedly, he places the crappy headphones upon your correspondent's ears and presses the play button...
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who am i?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
have you ever felt that it's someone else
living your life?
the image of you only better, it's true
at the outside, at the outside, at the outside, at the outside...
who am i?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
is there nothing i've done
that was truly begun be the real me?
have i stood to the side aware of the tide
that drags... me... out to the sea....
who am i?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
who am i?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?
where am i?
why do i feel this way?