They’re squeaky, no real base.
Sometimes I wish for a far more enriched sound.
I’d like to call my condition masochistic,
An attempt to punish myself for all manner of sins.
At least that suggests a contemplative act.
Not true, mine is a contemptible slushy,
Embarrassingly lethargic, approach to
One of man’s great achievements.
This is not to say our music
Surpasses that of birds or sea creatures.
Maybe it just suggests exquisite sound is lost on me,
Or I won’t spend the money on better speakers.
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