especially if it’s a little floyd.

Welcome my son, welcome to the machine.
Where have you been? It’s alright we know where you’ve been.
You’ve been in the pipeline, filling in time, provided with toys and ‘Scouting for Boys’.
You bought a guitar to punish your ma,
And you didn’t like school, and you know you’re nobody’s fool,
So welcome to the machine.

Welcome my son, welcome to the machine.
What did you dream? It’s alright we told you what to dream.
You dreamed of a big star, he played a mean guitar,
He always ate in the Steak Bar. He loved to drive in his Jaguar.
So welcome to the machine.

some little ether-mouse has seen fit to nibble on my ‘tales’ folder at my website. I suspect I burned it up when transferring some new data over there this morning. I have backups of my poems, stories and snippets at home, though, so it shouldn’t be too inconvenient to patch up.