The old me would have appended something to that sentence, but the new me knows that even if you nail the follow up all qualifiers weaken the case.
A style of lyric that exhibits two of the key failings which are a feature of many chart successes, to wit: a moment of pretentious teenage profundity; and a timeline that doesn't make sense.
‘Been furloughed?’ I ask, and Big Tooth nudges me under the desk to tell me that there was too much joy and hope in the question.
Let us hope they take up motoring as their means to travel into the suburbs to witness the fall of the citadel.
I will resist by constructing an argument based on social distancing, even though it’s the origins of girl power that compels me.