The fundamentals never pure,
Were corrupted hard by simple air,
Made rough by ambience,
And all our inattention,
We had no control of sound;
It left our bodies unpiloted,
Hitting the ears, modified,
By miles of cracking vapour,
But now we can fill the mind,
With an exact sound, music,
Made to match the mind,
In which it is absorbed,
Joy and sadness moulded,
To the mood of the day,
And in that stream of sound,
We'll hide a way to kill you,
With resonant frequencies,
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