The strangely dissonant “Not Mine” by Lungs starts off in a greyscale cityscape. It pans through a few vast, impersonal shots of the city; the only people present are down on the streets below the camera, and it feels like the viewer is extremely disconnected from the rest of the people in the world. Eventually, we land on the person that is presumably viewing all of this, up high in a skyscraper looking down below. The images then start to become more surreal as they go by, remaining completely greyscale throughout everything; there are animals, blurred time lapse images of people on pogo-sticks and doing other seemingly random, mundane activities. Pictures show up as well, of the human circulatory system, x-rays, scenes from old movies … We keep cutting back to the man from the skyscraper earlier, as if this is all going on his mind’s eye, and eventually he ends up sitting in the street, as if he had some sort of dissociative fugue, unable to handle the stress of his own mind.