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every electric keyboard whine can be sublime when mice eat cheese all night from silver dishes that       tickle their whiskers and the rats will cringe from where they wait in the wings with their hairy tails in traps,            "oh the tales we could tell, cos you see,       we used to get the cheese back when the wurlitzer hum made the basement floor and walls samba like a six-point-five somewhere along the san andreas, bigger at the epicentre, yes,       don't you see now…"            yes, see now – when your life story consists of bottomless lattes            (oh heaven) and the hours you waste thinking on the years yo