posted on Nov, 12 2003 @ 04:43 PM
Two police cars arrived at Dr Burns' office, one for Rob and one for Mick.
Rob sat sedated and cuffed in the back seat of one, while he observed Mick's head being lowered as he was placed in the rear of the other.
The headline on the magazine in the front seat of the car Rob was in pertained to some gossip about Candice Bergen. Rob had always liked her.
As he looked outside, Rob saw three tiny little people scurrying out of Dr Burns' office, running down the sidewalk and turning into the alleyway.
Nobody else batted an eyelid at them. Maybe the little people were taking over, and had selected this time to come out of their shoes everywhere. Rob
could not be certain.
On the way back to the cells at the police station, the officers had playing a Chemical Bros song, vocals by Bernie Sumner...
Sometimes I feel that I'm misunderstood,
The river's running deep right through my blood.
Your naked body's lying on the ground,
You always get me up when I'm down.
And it always seems we're running out of time.
We're out of control.
Out of control.
Out of control.
It may be that I'm just scared of losing you,
or maybe it's the things you make me do.
It seems to me we both should hang around,
and raise the population of this town.
And it always seems we're running out of time.
We're out of control.
Out of control..
Out of control.
But it doesn't mean we're too far down the line.
We're out of control,
out of control,
We're out of control.
Out of control.
The record player keeps on turning round,
It could be stuck, or maybe it's a sound.
All this time I should be there with you,
or maybe I'm just searching for the truth,
or maybe I'm just searching for the truth.
And it always seems we're running out of time.
We're out of control,
out of Control,
we're out of control.
Out of control
But it doesn't mean we're too far down the line.
We're out of control,
out of Control,
We're out of control.
It could be that I'm losing my touch,
or maybe you think my mustache is too much.
Satellite is out of control,
But you and I are brothers of this sun.
And you and I will come down from the cold.
Out of control.
Out of control.
We're out of control,
Out of Control,
We're out of control.
Out of control.
Out of control.