Cure The Desperate Journalist Lyrics

Desperate Journalist Lyrics

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.