We live on a mountain
right at the top
There's a beautiful view
from the top of the mountain
Every morning I walk towards the edge
and throw little things off
like car-parts, bottles and cutlery
or whatever I find lying around
I listen to the sounds they make
on their way down
I follow with my eyes 'til they crash
imagine what my body would sound like
slamming against those rocks
And when it lands
will my eyes
be closed or open?
— ‘Hyperballad’, Björk, 1995
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