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"A tale about the morbid practice 

of refusing to leave a nice clean corpse

by contriving the legend of your decline.

Perhaps a little over-ambitious for a three minute pop-song.

On the other hand it contains one of Steve Neive's 

most scene-telling piano parts."

The Loved Ones


Don't get smart or sarcastic He snaps back just like elastic Spare us the theatrics and the verbal gymnastics We break wise guys just like matchsticks What would the loved ones say Your pride and joy is all blown up What would the loved ones say The bride and boy are barely grown up You're not my particular poison I've got nothing against you myself You could have been a danger to the boys and girls Now you're a danger to yourself Oh what would the loved ones say What would the loved ones say Oh what would the loved ones say What would the loved ones say The ugly little scenes run round your bed The ugly little dreams you get the needle and no thread They stitched you up this time They say you'll do They bitch about your pretty face turning ugly on you The butcher the baker and the bassline maker Say you can leave her I can take her You live your whole life like a minute or two later One day its going to end sooner than greater What would the loved ones say He'll be remembered young and pretty What would the loved ones say Now he's a hit in every city Now there's a name well never forget There's one born every minute Dont pin a medal on me yet They might be waiting for you (chorus) PPS I love you