APAD #1: The Importance of Indie Rock to the British Suburban Teenager

We float above our beds
Alone, held up by sheets of sound
And the white noise does cause goosebumps
but only at the very best of times
Mostly we just lay there
Glad we're not touching the ground
Thankful for the force we feel beneath us
(but cannot understand)
And always always wishing we could share the feeling
Wishing we could fly
(hands touching)

Eventually, the stars come out,
So we rememember where we are.
We turn out the lights
And in the total black that follows the curtain's fall
Our legs hang off the edges of our beds.

There could be nothing there.
If we slipped off we could just




drop.


But we never do.

[End.
Written whilst listening to: Wilco.
Edited whilst listening to: Phoenix.
Pretty sure there are at least two references to lyrics of songs I like in this one. This will be a recurring theme. I like to think there's a fine line between intertextuality and plagiarism.]