This song is the last track your last tape your last date the last great fake. The last. Nowadays there is no linear, we’re all hyperlinked. I’m hyperlinked to my current and my ex and my future hyperlinks are all shimmering out there, avatars enticing me and sliding once again down a circle of wit and who-can-type-the-fastest and wouldn’t it be great if this worked out in all the ways the last one didn’t? Before all this there used to be first and last, and back then this song would have been last, the dead last, deep bottom of the tape. The “deep cut”, the “timebomb track”, forgotten until it catches up to you, on an extended car-trip through cornfields that happens to include everything you own except for all the things she was able to take from you. And maybe you’d drive fast or maybe you wouldn’t, but you would be pleasantly surprised, and for a second forget the pain and heartbreak and all the regrets slowly seeping out of you and staining the pavement you blur across under a bright sun.