Testi:
Smiths The Hatful Of Hollow

I would rather not go Back to the old house I would rather not go Back to the old house There's too many Bad memories Too many memories There ... There

I am the son And the heir Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir Of nothing in particular You shut your mouth How can you say

Good times for a change See, the luck I've had Can make a good man Turn bad So please please please Let me, let me, let me Let me get what I want This

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour But heaven knows I'm miserable now I was looking for a job, and then I found a job And heaven knows I'm miserable

In a river the colour of lead Immerse the baby's head Wrap her up in the News Of The World Dump her on a doorstep, girl This night has opened my eyes

All men have secrets and here is mine So let it be known For we have been through hell and high tide I think I can rely on you ... And yet you start

Hand in glove The sun shines out of our behinds No, it's not like any other love This one is different - because it's us Hand in glove We can go wherever

I decree today that life Is simply taking and not giving England is mine - it owes me a living But ask me why, and I'll spit in your eye Oh, ask me why

I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving England is mine, it owes me a living But ask me why and I'll spit in your eye Oh, ask me why