Spirit of Play

Well, yes, but which one? Newton, Kepler, Mendel? No, the other one – Maxwell's Demon, Thomas Pynchon, ones and zeroes, Bob's your uncle. Here's a set of lyrics on and around the subject from our song of the same name, this one's not in the New Yorker yet, but it's only a matter if time, I feel sure. We'll be unleashing this at the geekpop live event on March 18th but there are still two new songs to come for the launch of March 12th. Can you contain yourselves? Very well then, you contain yourselves and we'll get on with it.

Second Law

Everywhere you look you see a mess:
Sticking-plaster remedies, the scuff of things distressed.
It’s a closed system at closing time. O place your bets –
And get out barely half of what you put in, dear, or less.

The dealer in the tumble-dryer shuffles and he sweats,
And I’m more socks and pants down, love, than last week, I confess.
And if you ask me what I want, I guess:

I want a small corner of order
Where things don’t fall apart
Where we can hide from the disorder
I want a corner

I could have kept quiet about all this,
But it takes energy to aim and energy to miss.
It’s a closed system at closing time. I’ll place my bets –
And settle for a half of what I gave it dear, a kiss.

The bookie on the rabid nag looks pretty safe to me.
He’ll hang on, ‘cos it’s what you tend to do in a crisis
And if you ask me what I want, I guess:

I want a small corner of order
Where things don’t fall apart
Where we can hide from the disorder
I want a corner

You don’t need to worry
Cos this isn’t the end
Love isn’t a straight line
It’s just round the bend

Everywhere you look you see a mess, etc