Sometimes I wish I was just a simple drunkard.
You have to, at least from a distance, look as if you know what you're doing, and I can manage that.
The Smiths are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever going to reunite - ever.
This world, I am afraid, is designed for crashing bores.
I always seem to be singing against the grain.
A heartless hand on my shoulder A push and it's over Alabaster crashes down Six months is a long time Tried living in the real world Instead of a shell But before I began I was bored before I even began