The message read,
“I’m only 4,000 miles and another three weeks away, but I’ll forever be a lifetime from a word they’ve got to say. I spend my life up in the sky, far above these foreign grounds, since my walkman bit the dust last month I can’t recall the sound of those records that I spun when I first felt my independence, still I stand by all my choices and I fight through the consequences.
I’ll never forget the memories of roller discos and all our Saturday nights out, we always said we’d think about tomorrow when we grew old. We were strangers to nobody in this town other than ourselves each time we’d talk to girls and pretend that we were someone else. Then at the end of each night when I played the final 45, I’d pause and think I’ve never felt so alive.
The truth is I’ve never really known where it is that I belong, I feel like I’ve spent so many years on tenterhooks and being strung along. The past that we rewrote for you is a part fiction that hurts to read, and the truth itself is full of far too many between-the-lines that bleed. But ‘87 was the year that our Christmas came 3 days late and the old boys of the town they drank, for one whole week, together, to celebrate.”
Words by Liam Toms
Art by Luke Hyde
Music by Clive Robert Coats