Oooh you're a naughty mess

listening the smiths, i don't owe you anything, warmed by a cup of strong colombian/ down to 20mls of methadone, the edges smoothed away by this excellent codeine tartrate-paracetamol hybrid/ managed to get meat is murder and strangeways... on compact disk for a penny, thats GBP 0.01, a piece/ yes the smiths are for me in one respect like chopin, in that i could, can and sometimes do listen to them all day without tiring of them/ perhaps, as marr said, morrissey was a tad musically inflexible but nonetheless, i still love just about everything they did/ and how fortunate for everyone they were a short lived phenomenon/ imagine the jimi hendrix experience at 40/ je shudder/ or the doors/ i know jim's poetry ranks with some of the worst ever conceived by man or tree, but then so does ian curtis's, and i adore both the doors and joy division/ and whilst their poetry was utter tripe, that they meant it, were fabulous performers and had great bands behind them meant they produced some of the best 'pop' music of the 60's plus/ god, i'm starting to sound like a rock critic/ i read a zappa quote t'other day i found mildly amusing, which went roughly, music journalism is people who can't write interviewing people who can't speak for people who can't read/ oh frank...