Rusholme Ruffians – The Smiths

The last night of the fair By the big wheel generator A boy is stabbed And his money is grabbed And the air hangs heavy like a dulling wine She is famous She is funny An engagement ring Doesn’t mean a thing To a mind consumed by brass (money) And though I walk home alone I might walk home alone… …But my faith in love is still devout The last night of the fair From a seat on a whirling waltzer Her skirt ascends for a watching eye It’s a hideous trait (on her mother’s side) From a seat on […]

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