Sleep on and dream of Love
|
because it's the closest you will get to love
|
poor twisted child
|
so ugly, so ugly
|
poor twisted child
|
oh hug me, oh hug me
|
one November
|
spawned a monster
|
in the shape of this child
|
who later cried
|
"But Jesus made me, so
|
Jesus save me from
|
pity, sympathy
|
and people discussing me
|
a frame of useless limbs
|
what can make GOOD
|
all the BAD that's been done?
|
And if the lights were out
|
could you even bear
|
to kiss her full on the mouth
|
(or anywhere?)
|
poor twisted child
|
so ugly, so ugly
|
poor twisted child
|
oh hug me, oh hug me
|
one November
|
spawned a monster
|
in the shape of this child
|
who must remain
|
a hostage to kindess
|
and the wheels underneath her
|
a hostage to kindess
|
and the wheels underneath her
|
a symbol of where mad, mad lovers
|
must PAUSE and draw the line
|
So sleep and dream of love
|
because it's the closest
|
you will get to love
|
that November
|
is a time
|
which I must
|
put OUT of my mind
|
oh one fine day
|
LET IT BE SOON
|
she won't be rich or beautiful
|
but she'll be walking your streets
|
in the clothes that she went out
|
and chose for herself
|
|
-----------------
|
November Spawned A Monster
|
| Morrissey |
