Desperate Journalist — 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.