I was on my way home from a friend's house the other day, driving carefully down a heavily rutted street lined with bony-branched trees and massive snow banks. It was almost dark and it was snowing, again. Because it's always, always snowing.
And I was looking up at the sky through the trees and at the snowbanks which looked like couches and coffee tables beneath dusty white slipcovers in an old, abandoned house, and I turned the radio up as loud as I could stand it and this song was playing.
Do they know these days are golden?
Build a rocket boys! Build a rocket boys!