"deja vu" genre: Experimental
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	Credits: Silikone Squeeze
	Story Behind the Song Déjà Vu Things move so fast I can't hear the words any more: they speak in a whisper, the ancestors do - their words lost in the wind as it rushes past. I never know the names of the places we pass through, or the people I see dead on the road side, the contents of their shopping-bags strewn across the grass. Nobody tells me - perhaps nobody knows. My fellow passengers seem distracted, talking into microphones to invisible people. Whatever it was happened no-one expected it - and I can no more understand it all than I can the fluttering pages of an open book I saw dropped by an old man, dead, half in half out a toppled, folding chair. He, like the others, cruises off the screen, into the past I cant make sense of. All I can do is tell you what happened: you'll listen, I'm sure. But then perhaps there's nothing we can do and its just the way things are, and one day we'll meet ourselves hurrying past to places we left long ago to rediscover words for things that scare us. (c) Dominic Rivron 2003

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