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]