There seems to be a plot afoot at the Renon Plaza Starbucks to drive patrons crazy with the endless repetition of a series of particularly insipid musical numbers, played day in and day out in the exact same order and at inappropriately high volume, though I cannot begin to guess at why such a mad plan would be suitable to management. Some malicious scheme at the highest level? Each of the numbers has in common a mind searing monotony, like the sound of a ticking clock, an invasive sort of dopiness seemingly designed to mar the soul itself like a mark that cannot after be buffed away.
This is the song that has no end
it just goes on and on my friend
Some people started singing it
not knowing wat it was
and they'll continue singing it
forever just because
This is the song that has no end …
I can remember more pleasant days when one was only vaguely aware of music playing in the background, music that seemed carefully chosen as soothing, non-interruptive, relaxed. Sinatra music, for instance, softly crooning, or some instrumental number, a baroque piece or a classical, Eine Kliene Nachtmusik.
Ah, the good old days.
This is the song that has no end
it just goes on and on my friend
Some people started singing it
not knowing wat it was
and they'll continue singing it
forever just because
This is the song that has no end …
I can remember more pleasant days when one was only vaguely aware of music playing in the background, music that seemed carefully chosen as soothing, non-interruptive, relaxed. Sinatra music, for instance, softly crooning, or some instrumental number, a baroque piece or a classical, Eine Kliene Nachtmusik.
Ah, the good old days.
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