Things Moz should write a song about

Should Moz write a wacky song about euphenasia?


  • Total voters
    5
  • Poll closed .

Mclenarr

New Member
It's just come on the news that a couple went to Switzerland to undergo euphenasia together and I just though, as you would...to die by your side.

This'd be a subject, a very dark subject that Moz could tackle in the same vein of GIAC and NSAM etc.

Anyone got any other ideas for subjects they'd like Morrissey to write a song about?
 
Joey's hag.
 
Youth in Asia?


Shut up! Someone had to...
 
I think you meant "yutes".

I dealt with quite a few "yoots" today. I had to stop them let them know that I felt as if I were in the middle of a Sopranos episode.
 


The stereotype would probably annoy me if it wasn't so true.
Get me drinking and water becomes wawduh and I hang my clothes on a hang-guh.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
The stereotype would probably annoy me if it wasn't so true.
Get me drinking and water becomes wawduh and I hang my clothes on a hang-guh.

Wheredya pahk ye cah?
 
Anyone got any other ideas for subjects they'd like Morrissey to write a song about?

1. Women's blouses.

2. The Well of Loneliness. Bathtub. Hair dryer.

3. Vegetarian restaurants in Austin, Texas.

4. Trapezoids.

5. Nicotine withdrawal.

6. Ted Hughes.

7. The letter I wrote him in 1989.

8. Our fiscal crisis. Can somebody please explain this?

9. English translations of Mark E. Smith

10. The strictly non-exploitative hypnotizing of chickens
 
Last edited:
"f*** you, Santa!"

Santa
The lights are all hooked up
The kids are all worked up
And me, all my life
You know I've looked up
To you

But 'cross the rooftops you never came
They'll never dry our flooded eyes
On your face
In a parking space
Oh Santa they never got the license
Of the bottle that ran you down

f*** you, Santa
f*** you, Santa
On the boulevard they're half-alarmed
At the leer behind the beard

Santa
The lights are all hooked up
The kids are all worked up
And you, all your life
You've been soaked up
On gin

But down the chimney you never came
They'll never mend our broken hearts
On your back
With an empty sack
Oh Santa they never got the license
Of the bottle that ran you down

f*** you, Santa
f*** you, Santa
On the boulevard they're half-alarmed
At the leer behind the beard

I cried for you
I moaned for you
So many many nights
In taut anticipation
But when the day arrived
You were anaesthetized
"Socks yet again this year, dear"

So
f*** you, Santa
f*** you, Santa
Go be merry in hell
All over Manchester town
They're pulling Woolworths down
For one clean crack at you
 
Tags
vachina where bklyn at? youth in asia
Back
Top Bottom