It really started back before the world moved on. The new generation looking for another way. They almost found it. Or seemed they had. Then it was lost, though most didn't notice. Almost like it sorta melted. Then the air seemed to shimmer for a moment, and a new day then rose from shrouded nightmare. Bands were playing something not quite the same as I remembered it. But the melody remained. Mostly it was heard out by edges of the wheatfields. The days of awakening were over. Those that retained their sight moved on. Remaining minds joined in a vast sea of semi-consciousness, causing dreams of splendor and terror. It was easier this way. And the dream was deemed good, with most items marked down ten to fifteen percent. A new order of perception rooted in neat compartments. Should sell itself. They can look - and touch. But never quite possess. It's perfect. But I still wait for the sign-post to guide me. Still we made records, though. There was no good reason to. But the music remained. And some had been played before. And some just rested - waiting. Some stirred the mind. Some stirred the body. And still some of it stirred the heart. Sometimes it was anger. Sometimes dark pride. Sometimes there was sadness, loneliness. But all in all it felt like a final calling. The times I remember best were the melodies that brought us peace. There was no pain for that moment. Only peace. No one is really sure what happened after that. Very few were certain of the outcome. I guess in the meantime we'll just resume the journey down the road.