Desperate Journalist — текст песни (cure)

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.