Desperate Journalist lyrics

Hey mister a review

A word for salad

Is written by my friend

In penman



He uses long words

Like semiotics and semolina

But I counted

With

Enigma and metropolis



The lads go rampant on insignificant symbolism

And compound this with rude soulless obliqueness



Everything`s coming to a grinding halt

I use such long words



It`s all clever stuff

All this charming childish fiddling about aims for the anti-image

But it naturally creates the perfectly malleable image



Tantalizing enigma

Of the Cure

They try to take

Everything



But the Cure really

They`re just trying to sell us something

Their product is more artificial than most

This is perhaps part of their

Masterplan

But it seems more like their naivity



Everything`s coming to a grinding halt

Everything`s coming to a grinding halt

Everything`s coming to a grinding halt



Note how really songs what are made of (?)

Murk and marshes

Tawdry images

Inane realisations

Dull dull dull epigrams

Sometimes they sound like an avant-garde John Otway

Or an ugly spirit



Toy drumming

Sprightly bass

Limited guitar riff



Check the sheet out of my favorite book



People don`t forget the penman

It`s just that in 1979 people shouldn`t be allowed to get away with things like this



I say.
Back to: THE CURE lyrics