Panic At The Disco - A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Track one: Introduction. There's how to get in my good books. I'm even moved to overlook the complete absence of punctuation in the song title 'London Beckoned Songs About Money Written by Machines', which really, really needs some.

There are some other intriguing titles on this album, but I'm going to ignore them all. All bar one:

'Build God, Then We'll Talk'

Build him! Build him now! Use stickle-bricks or Lego. Use sand or snow. Use wood or steel. Build him with know-how. Build him with brawn. Build him to last a thousand years.

After that we can have a conversation. We can talk about HOW YOU BUILT GOD! Or maybe we could talk about lacrosse. You probably don't want to talk about lacrosse though, do you? All you're interested in is building God. It's like an obsession with you. I'm sick of hearing about it.

'First we did this, then we did that'. God, God, God. Is there NOTHING else in your life? I'm leaving. You can sit and talk to God, if you're so proud of him.

Oh, and one more thing - God's arms are crap. Did you know that? Crap. Where did you learn to build God? Down at the blind school?