My Wicked Ways

The letters to Morrissey reminded of an idea I had when I saw an ad for a "bad teen poetry contest". The idea was to enter the competition using the lyrics of a lesser known Smiths song. Afterall, who wrote better bad teen poetry than Steven Patrick Morrissey? So this morning I set up a yahoo account for one Mr Steven Patrick (stevenpatricius@yahoo.co.uk), copy & pasted the lyrics to Death at One's Elbow then made up a story to go with it (staying true to what I imagine the real story behind the song to be). Anyway, here's the email and here's hoping I, I mean Steven, wins the comp!


Hello,

My name is Steven Patrick. As a teen I was struggling with my sexuality and spent most of my time listening to the New York Dolls (whose camp posing I loved) and obsessing over biographies of James Dean. They were my main interests until Glenn came into my life. He was my new obsession but although we were great friends he wasn't that way inclined. In the end I wanted to spend time with him and wanted not to as well - the love that couldn't be. I penned these words as a means of therapy. Embarrassing now but they helped at the time.


Ooh Glenn
don't come to the house tonight
Ooh, Glenn
don't come to the house tonight

because there's somebody here
who really really loves you
stay home be bored
(it's crap, I KNOW)

Ooh, Glenn
don't come to the house tonight
Ooh, Glenn
don't come to the house tonight

because there's somebody here
who'll take a hatchet to your ear
how the frustration renders me hateful,

Glenn!
don't come to the house tonight
don't come to the house tonight

because you'll slip on the
trail of my bespattered remains
and so, that's why
GOODBYE MY LOVE, GOODBYE MY LOVE
GOODBYE MY LOVE, GOODBYE MY LOVE
GOODBYE MY LOVE, GOODBYE MY LOVE

Belch