composed of song. 

the boy with the thorn in his side,

sweet and tender hooligan,



you’ve got everything now. 

miserable lie,

half a person. 

i started something i couldn’t finish. 
last night i dreamt that somebody loved me,

i know it’s over. 

heaven knows i’m miserable now.

how soon is now?

what difference does it make?

is it really so strange?

stretch out and wait,

stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before. 

i want the one i can’t have, 
i won’t share you. 

please, please, please let me get what i want. 
oscillate wildly –

nowhere fast. 

this charming man, 

girl afraid. 


paint a vulgar picture. 
well i wonder. 

cemetery gates,

death at one’s elbow. 

pretty girls make graves
this night has opened my eyes,

golden lights,


wonderful woman. 
back to the old house;

barbarism begins at home. 

the hand that rocks the cradle. 


   – in which every line is a song by the smiths. 


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