The Smiths Pretty Girls Make Graves

Upon the sand, upon the bay

“There is a quick and easy way” you say

Before you illustrate

I’d rather state:

“I’m not the man you think I am

I’m not the man you think I am”

And Sorrow’s native son

He will not smile for anyone

And Pretty Girls Make Graves

Oh…

End of the pier, end of the bay

You tug my arm, and say: “Give in to lust,

Give up to lust, oh heaven knows we’ll

Soon be dust… “

Oh, I’m not the man you think I am

I’m not the man you think I am

And Sorrow’s native son

He will not rise for anyone

And Pretty Girls Make Graves

Oh really?

Oh…

I could have been wild and I could have

Been free

But Nature played this trick on me

She wants it Now

And she will not wait

But she’s too rough

And I’m too delicate

Then, on the sand

Another man, he takes her hand

A smile lights up her stupid face

(and well, it would)

I lost my faith in Womanhood

I lost my faith in Womanhood

I lost my faith…

Oh…

Hand in glove…

The sun shines out of our behinds…

Oh…

The Smiths Handsome Devil

All the streets are crammed with things

eager to be held

I know what hands are for

and I’d like to help myself

you ask me the time

but I sense something more

and I would like to give you

what I think you’re asking for

you handsome devil

you handsome devil

Let me get my hands

on your mammary glands

and let me get your head

on the conjugal bed

I say, I say, I say

I crack the whip

and you skip

but you deserve it

you deserve it, deserve it, deserve it

A boy in the bush

is worth two in the hand

I think I can help you get through your exams

oh you handsome devil

Let me get my hands

on your mammary glands

and let me get your head

on the conjugal bed

I say, I say, I say

I crack the whip

and you skip

but you deserve it

you deserve it, deserve it, deserve it

And when we’re in your scholarly room

who will swallow whom?

and when we’re in your scholarly room

who will swallow whom?

you handsome devil

Let me get my hands

on your mammary glands

and let me get your head

on the conjugal bed

I say, I say, I say

There’s more to life than books you know

but not much more

oh you handsome devil

The Smiths Golden Lights

Golden lights displaying your name

Golden lights it’s a terrible shame

But oh my darling

WHY DID YOU CHANGE?

Boy in a million, idol, a big star

I didn’t tell you how great you were

I didn’t grovel and scream

And rip your brand new jacket at the seams

You made a record, they liked your singing

All of a sudden the phone stops ringing

Ah… I never thought that you would let

The glory make you forget

Golden lights displaying your name

Golden lights it’s a terrible shame

But oh my darling

WHY DID YOU CHANGE?

Top ten idol, king of your age

Who do you turn to when you’re backstage?

Don’t you remember you once knew a girl

You loved her more than the world

Is life always like this, brother?

Good for one side but bad for another

I must put you behind me tonight

‘Cause you belong to the lights

Those golden lights displaying your name

Golden lights it’s a terrible shame

But oh my darling

WHY DID YOU CHANGE?

Oh, oh my darling

WHY?

WHY DID YOU CHANGE?

Oh…

The Smiths Reel Around The Fountain

It’s time the tale were told

of how you took a child

and you made him old

It’s time the tale were told

of how you took a child

and you made him old

you made him old

Reel around the fountain

slap me on the patio

I’ll take it now

Fifteen minutes with you

well, I wouldn’t say no

oh people said

that you were virtually dead

and they were so wrong!

Fifteen minutes with you

I wouldn’t say no

oh people said

that you were easily led

and they were half-right

It’s time the tale were told

of how you took a child

and you made him old

It’s time the tale were told

of how you took a child

and you made him old

you made him old

Reel around the fountain

slap me on the patio

I’ll take it now

Fifteen minutes with you

I wouldn’t say no

oh people see no worth in you

oh but I do

Fifteen minutes with you

oh I wouldn’t say no

oh people see no worth in you

but I do

I dreamt about you last night

and I fell out of bed twice

you can pin and mount me

like a butterfly

But take me to the haven of your bed

was something that you never said

two lumps, please

you’re the bee’s knees

but so am I

Meet me at the fountain

shove me on the patio

I’ll take it slowly

Fifteen minutes with you

oh I wouldn’t say no

people see no worth in you

oh but I do

The Smiths Rusholme Ruffians

The last night of the fair

by the big wheel generator

a boy is stabbed

and his money is grabbed

and the air hangs heavy like a dulling wine

she is Famous

she is Funny

an engagement ring

doesn’t mean a thing

to a mind consumed by brass (money)

and though I walk home alone

my faith in love is still devout

the last night of the fair

from a seat on a whirling waltzer

her skirt ascends for a watching eye

it’s a hideous trait (on her mother’s side)

and though I walk home alone

my faith in love is still devout

then someone falls in love

and someone’s beaten up

someone’s beaten up

and the senses being dulled are mine

and though I walk home alone

my faith in love is still devout

this is the last night of the fair

and the grease in the hair

of a speedway operator

is all a tremulous heart requires

a schoolgirl is denied

she said: “How quickly would I die

if I jumped from the top of the parachutes?”

this is the last night of the fair

and the grease in the hair

of a speedway operator

is all a tremulous heart requires

a schoolgirl is denied

she said: “How quickly would I die

if I jumped from the top of the parachutes?”

scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen

(this means you really love me)

and though I walk home alone

my faith in love is still devout

The Smiths Paint A Vulgar Picture

At the record company meeting

On their hands – a dead star

And ooh, the plans they weave

And ooh, the sickening greed

At the record company party

On their hands – a dead star

The sycophantic slags all say:

“I knew him first, and I knew him well”

Re-issue! Re-package! Re-package!

Re-evaluate the songs

Double pack with a photograph

Extra Track (and a tacky badge)

A-list, playlist

“Please them, please them!”

“Please them, please them!”

(Sadly, THIS was your life)

But you could have said no

If you’d wanted to

You could have said no

If you’d wanted to

BPI, MTV, BBC

“Please them!, Please them!”

(Sadly, this was your life)

But you could have said no

If you’d wanted to

You could have walked away

… couldn’t you?

I touched you at the soundcheck

You had no real way of knowing

In my heart I begged “take me with you…

I don’t care where you’re going…”

But to you I was faceless

I was fawning, I was boring

A child from those ugly new houses

Who could never begin to know

Who could never really know

Best of! Most of!

Satiate the need

Slip them into different sleeves!

Buy both, and feel deceived

Climber – new entry, re-entry

World tour! (“media whore”)

“Please the Press in Belgium!”

(THIS was your life…)

And when it fails to recoup?

Well, maybe:

You just haven’t earned it yet, baby

I walked a pace behind you at the soundcheck

You’re just the same as I am

What makes most people feel happy

Leads us headlong into harm

So, in my bedroom in those ugly new houses

I dance my legs down to the knees

But me and my ‘true love’

Will never meet again…

At the record company meeting

On their hands – at last! – a dead star!

But they can never taint you in my eyes

They can never touch you now

No, they cannot hurt you my darling

They cannot touch you now

But me and my ‘true love’

Will never meet again

The Smiths What Difference Does It Make?

All men have secrets and here is mine so let it be known

For we have been through hell and high tide

I think I can rely on you

And yet you start to recoil

Heavy words are so lightly thrown

But still I’d leap in front of a flying bullet for you

So what difference does it make?

So what difference does it make?

It makes none, but now you have gone

And you must be looking very old tonight

The devil will find work for idle hands to do

I stole and I lied, and why? because you asked me to

But now you make me feel so ashamed

Because I’ve only got two hands

Well, I’m still fond of you

So what difference does it make?

What difference does it make?

It makes none, but now you have gone

And your prejudice won’t keep you warm tonight

Oh the devil will find work for idle hands to do

I stole and then I lied just because you asked me to

But now you know the truth about me

You won’t see me anymore

Well, I’m still fond of you

But no more apologies, no more

No more apologies

I’m too tired, I’m so sick and tired

And I’m feeling very sick and ill today

But I’m still fond of you

The Smiths Unloveable

Oh…

I know I’m unloveable

You don’t have to tell me

I don’t have much in my life

But take it – it’s yours

I don’t have much in my life

But take it – it’s yours

Oh…

I know I’m unloveable

You don’t have to tell me

Oh, message received

Loud and clear

Loud and clear

I don’t have much in my life

But take it – it’s yours

I know I’m unloveable

You don’t have to tell me

For message received

Loud and clear

Loud and clear

Message received

I don’t have much in my life

But take it – it’s yours

I wear Black on the outside

‘Cause Black is how I feel on the inside

I wear Black on the outside

‘Cause Black is how I feel on the inside

And if I seem a little strange

Well, that’s because I am

If I seem a little strange

That’s because I am

But I know that you would like me

If only you could see me

If only you could meet me

Oh…

I don’t have much in my life

But take it – it’s yours

I don’t have much in my life

But take it – it’s yours

Mmm…

Oh…

The Smiths Cemetry Gates

A dreaded sunny day

So I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day

So I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

While Wilde is on mine

So we go inside and we gravely read the stones

All those people all those lives

Where are they now?

With the loves and hates

And passions just like mine

They were born

And then they lived and then they died

Seems so unfair

And I want to cry

You say: “ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn”

And you claim these words as your own

But I’ve read well, and I’ve heard them said

A hundred times, maybe less, maybe more

If you must write prose and poems

The words you use should be your own

Don’t plagiarise or take “on loans”

There’s always someone, somewhere

With a big nose, who knows

And who trips you up and laughs

When you fall

Who’ll trip you up and laugh

When you fall

You say: “ere long done do does did”

Words which could only be your own

And then you then produce the text

From whence was ripped some dizzy whore, 1804

A dreaded sunny day

So let’s go where we’re happy

And I meet you at the cemetery gates

Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day

So let’s go where we’re wanted

And I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

But you lose because weird lover Wilde is on mine

The Smiths Is It Really So Strange?

I left the North

I travelled South

I found a tiny house

And I can’t help the way I feel

Oh yes, you can kick me

And you can punch me

And you can break my face

But you won’t change the way I feel

‘Cause I love you

Oh…

And is it really so strange?

Oh, is it really so strange?

Oh, is it really so, really so strange?

I say NO, you say YES

(and you will change your mind)

I left the South

I travelled North

I got confused – I killed a horse

I can’t help the way I feel

Oh yes, you can punch me

And you can butt me

And you can break my spine

But you won’t change the way I feel

‘Cause I love you

Oh…

And is it really so strange?

Oh, is it really so strange?

Oh, is it really so, really so strange?

I say NO, you say YES

(But you will change your mind)

I left the North again

I travelled South again

And I got confused – I killed a nun

I CAN’T HELP THE WAY I FEEL

I CAN’T HELP THE WAY I FEEL

I CAN’T HELP THE WAY I FEEL

(I lost my bag in Newport Pagnell)

Why is the last mile the hardest mile?

My throat was dry, with the sun in my eyes

And I realised, I realised

I could never

I could never, never, never, go back home again