I love that song. I can’t generally think the words without singing them, even under my breath. I sing them in the stacks as I climb the little wooden stepladder to put an old, foxed paperback on the top shelf. This time I can’t sing, because I don’t have access to my own mouth, but I can hear a sound like someone with a very bad cold trying over and over again to say a word with lots of Ns and Ms in it. Monomaniac. Mnemonic. Noumenon. It’s a terrible noise. She should stop. She sounds like an aphasic. It’s grotesque.