Now I Know How Joan

The Cure: A New Dimension Of The Word 'crap'.

Robert Smith Is A Whingebag.

I Have Forgiven Jesus For All Of The Love He Placed In Me, When There's No One I Can Turn To With This Love.

And If I Seem A Little Strange Well, That's Because I Am

These Tears I'm Wailing, I Spill Not Without Reason. Remove Them, My Dearest Love. Take Me To The Place I've Been Dreaming Of, Where The Grotesquely Lonely Meet The Grotesquely Lonely And They Whisper, Just Very Softly, Please Be Mine, Dearest Love.