| Been out all night, I needed a bite, I thought I’d put a record on I reached for the one with the ultra-modern label, and wondered where the light
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| had gone
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| It had a futuristic cover, lifted straight from Buck Rogers
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| The record was so black it had to be a con
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| The autochanger switched as I filled my sandwich
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| And futuristic sounds warbled off and on The black hit of space
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| It’s the one without a face
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| It’s the one that doesn’t fit
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| You can only see the flip
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| The black hit of space
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| Sucking in the human race
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| How can it stay at the top
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| When it’s swallowed all the shops
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| As the song climbed the charts, the others disappeared
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| Til there was nothing but it left to buy
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| It got to number one, then into minus figures
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| Though nobody could understand why
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| The black hit of space
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| It’s the one without a face
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| It’s the one that doesn’t fit
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| You can only see the flip
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| The black hit of space
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| Sucking in the human race
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| How can it stay at the top
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| When it’s swallowed all the shops
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| I couldn’t stand this bland sound any more so I walked towards my deck to turn
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| it off
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| All I could see was the B-side of the disc which had assumed a doughnut shape
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| with the label on the outside rim
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| I reached for the arm which was less than one micron long but weighed more than
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| Saturn and time stood still
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| I knew I had to escape but every time I tried to flee, the record was in front
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| of me The black hit of space
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| Get James Burke on the case
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| It’s the hit that’s never gone
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| Time stops when you put it…(on) |