New Order

I firmly believe behind every speaker in every room that has a poxy sound system there’s a missing earing or shoe, a jacket that says ‘Autograph’ on the collar or there was one time I found a cassette that had no name on it but a selection of love songs on each side like a mix for a lover that disappeared down a sofa somewhere when I lived on Dorset street.
A life of love for music disappeared because they forgot, because they couldn’t care less like the memory of my smiling face when I heard Blue Monday on some breeze and then over the course of a thousand sand blasting sound blasting waves of plays, it fell from grace and lost it’s lustre, it’s over when 2 many dj’s mangle it into an ice cream cone for some bitches with low tops thinking it’s Ibiza.

It’s not- it’s suicide in Manchester having a split personality and a sadness in the head that was eased by buying nearly 10 copies over the many years, many long nights of pleasing crowds that spent a great deal of time on their knees, please! I need more.

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