Theory

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The best part of a Smiths song is always the end. The tunes grumble and rumble into a furious pace. The lyrics fade, the bass and drum continue to gather ferocious steam. Marr is offered the space to paint his picture, and Morrissey groans, wails or utters a beautifully senseless fragment.

Send me your pillow, the one that you dream on.

Ohhh. Ohh. Ohhhh.

 Ohhh...hmm lalalalalalaaalaaaaa....lalalalalaaaaaalaaaa......

 

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