My prediction was correct: the song I
heard when I first entered the basement summed up the joy of a shared
comradeship, magnifying both.
All these years I´ve spent searching
for it -in my memory, in my dreams, in collections appearing since 69
under the symbols of the miracle or the tree with roots, on labels of
the genuine or, recently, the complete... but the song just doesn´t
come up. It´s just not there.
Perhaps it was never recorded, perhaps it´ll show up tomorrow in a lost tape.
The song is not recorded because it
possibly doesn't exist.