Tiny houses, here and there

Back in 2018, I edited a short story collection entitled The Petrified World and other stories. It's here if you're interested. Rol's in it too. You'd like it, I think, the book. It's very reasonably priced, any profit goes to charity, all of that. Take a punt, why not?

But anyway, pitch over, back to the point. As I cycled to work this morning along car-choked roads, through yet another spiralling housing estate of identikit rabbit hutches, today's song sprung readily to mind. As did this quote from Sir David Attenborough, that I included in the introduction of the aforementioned book:

All environmental problems become harder - and ultimately impossible - to solve with ever more people.

Sorry. Downer, I know, but no less true for that. Here's the song, and an appropriately claustrophobic video shot in a rehearsal room, from Blur's Indian summer of 2015.

There are too many of us
That's plain to see
We all believe in praying
For our immortality
We've posed these questions to our children
That calls them all to stray
And live in tiny houses
Of the same mistakes we made

'Cause there are too many of us
In tiny houses here and there
Passing out of somewhere
But you won't care

There are too many of us
That's plain to see
And we all believe in praying
For our own immortality
For a moment, I was dislocated
My terror on a loop elsewhere
The flashing lights part vacated
On the big screens everywhere

'Cause there are too many of us
In tiny houses here and there
Just passing out of somewhere
But you won't care

There are too many of us
In tiny houses here and there
All looking through the windows
On everything we share
We pose these questions to our children
It leads them all to stray
And live in tiny houses
Of the same mistakes we make

'Cause there are too many of us
Oh, that's plain to see
All living in tiny houses (passing out of somewhere)
Of our own mortality (but you won't care)