Been out all night I needed a bite I thought I'd put a record on. I reached for the one with the ultra-modern label and wondered where the light had gone. It had a futuristic cover lifted straight from Buck Rogers. The record was so black it had to be a con. The autochanger switched as I filled my sandwich. And futuristic sounds warbled off and on. The black hit of space. It's the one without a face. It's the one that doesn't fit. You can only see the flip. The black hit of space. Sucking in the human race. How can it stay at the top. When it's swallowed all the shops. As the song climbed the charts the others disappeared. Til there was nothing but it left to buy. It got to number one then into minus figures. Though nobody could understand why. The black hit of space. It's the one without a face. It's the one that doesn't fit. You can only see the flip. The black hit of space. Sucking in the human race. How can it stay at the top. When it's swallowed all the shops. I couldn't stand this bland sound any more so I walked towards my deck to turn it off. All I could see was the B-side of the disc which had assumed a doughnut shape with the label on the outside rim. I reached for the arm which was less than one micron long but weighed more than Saturn and time stood still. I knew I had to escape but every time I tried to flee the record was in front of me. The black hit of space. Get James Burke on the case. It's the hit that's never gone. Time stops when you put it...[on].