There's a lot of people who don't understand the circle crops in England. Pure enigma.

I listened to them fade away till all I could hear was my memory of the sound.

I've been to too many Dead concerts. There've been smokin' holes where my memory used to be.

There's a lot of people who don't understand the circle crops in England. Pure enigma.

Like a cartoon world, where the figures are flat and outlined in black, jerking through some kind of goofy story that might be real funny if it weren't for the cartoon figures being real guys.

- he's finished with that; it's like an old clock that won't tell time but won't stop neither, with the hands bent out of shape and the face bare of numbers and the alarm bell rusted silent, an old worthless clock that just keeps ticking and cuckooing without meaning nothing.

Your trouble is, you keep trying to unscrew the unscrutable.