You'll Have Pie In The Sky When

All The World Is Made Of Music. We Are All Strings On A Lyre. We Resonate. We Sing Together.

Workers Of The World Awaken. Break Your Chains, Demand Your Rights. All The Wealth You Make Is Taken, By Exploiting Parasites. Shall You Kneel In Deep Submission From Your Cradle To Your Grave? Is The Height Of Your Ambition To Be A Good And Willing Slave?

It Was Something... The Way A Person's Life Picked Up Speed, The Way A Life Was Like A Bullet Aimed At One Final Target, Impossible To Slow Or Turn Aside, And Like The Bullet, You Were Ignorant Of What You Were Going To Hit, Would Never Know Anything Except The Rush And The Impact.

Don't Mourn, Organise

... People Made The Imaginary Real All The Time: Taking The Music They Heard In Their Head And Recording It, Seeing A House In Their Imagination And Building It. Fantasy Was Always Only A Reality Waiting To Be Switched On.