I'm the schemer and you're the dreamer. We're countertactics, Lomographic, telepathics. It's in my head, but you hold it in your hands.
My mind's all for diagrams and the telephone wires. I want to whisper, dearly give you the wrong idea. This cannot come out to be my fault, so let's slip back into my third secret. Do you remember how we swore never to tell such a little thing in the scheme of things? It's not so difficult; each box is a day and each boy is a way.
I thought FM came through clearer at night, but I've got nowhere to go and nothing to wait for. I can hear you everywhere and altogether the pulses of matter in the dark don't scare me so much as do I.