"A tale about the morbid practice 

of refusing to leave a nice clean corpse

by contriving the legend of your decline.

Perhaps a little over-ambitious for a three minute pop-song.

On the other hand it contains one of Steve Neive's 

most scene-telling piano parts."







Don't get smart or sarcastic 
He snaps back just like elastic 
Spare us the theatrics and the verbal gymnastics 
We break wise guys just like matchsticks 

What would the loved ones say 
Your pride and joy is all blown up 
What would the loved ones say 
The bride and boy are barely grown up 
You're not my particular poison 
I've got nothing against you myself 
You could have been a danger to the boys and girls 
Now you're a danger to yourself 

Oh what would the loved ones say 
What would the loved ones say 
Oh what would the loved ones say 
What would the loved ones say 

The ugly little scenes run round your bed 
The ugly little dreams you get the needle and no thread 
They stitched you up this time 
They say you'll do 
They bitch about your pretty face turning ugly on you 

The butcher the baker and the bassline maker
Say you can leave her I can take her
You live your whole life like a minute or two later
One day its going to end sooner than greater

What would the loved ones say
He'll be remembered young and pretty
What would the loved ones say
Now he's a hit in every city 
Now there's a name well never forget
There's one born every minute 
Dont pin a medal on me yet
They might be waiting for you

(chorus)

PPS I love you