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

chorus
The black hit of space
It's the one without a face
It's the hit 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

repeat chorus

I couldn't stand this bland sound anymore
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...