Havin' a Marillion kind of day. Metal instruments on root planes, Supreme Courts across the land, and nasty Michigan media members all make me miss my drums so because I want to hit something with a stick real, real bad.
(And no, not humans or animals. Don't take that too literally.)
"From the Time-Life-Guardians in their conscience bubbles
Safe and dry in my sea of troubles
Nine to five with suitable ties
Cast adrift as their side-show, peepshow, stereo hero
Becalm, bestill, bewitch,
Drowning, drowning in the real."
Good thing the lyrics are so cryptic. You have to be a broken-hearted rebellious teenage drunk to understand. That's what makes it good.
Fugazi.