Now that good old radio is dead and tooth paste film songs gone from Wednesdays , eight of clock there is no point in our persisting.
Radio was a fine storage to keep scarce charcoal for our icy stoves in a war time we needed to store. The Chinese were fast coming at the border , across snow hills.
What Chinese did with their radio was their business but generally they loved propaganda to a fault and we chanted Indie Chini were bros.
When they smiled their tiny eyes crinkled in a brotherly approval and soon we stabbed each other and so we needed no charcoal.
Our soldiers were charcoal of patriotic songs and war news as years that had turned fingers were duly writ in powdery snows, having writ , moved on like radio.