Pretty Girls Make Graves - The Smiths

Upon the sand, upon the bay

«There is a quick and easy way» you say

Before you illustrate

I’d rather state

I’m not the man you think I am

I’m not the man you think I am

And sorrow’s native son

He will not smile for anyone

And pretty girls make graves

Oh…

End of the pier, end of the bay

You tug my arm, and say «give in to lust

Give up to lust, oh heaven knows we’ll

Soon be dust… «Oh, I’m not the man you think I am

I’m not the man you think I am

And sorrow’s native son

He will not rise for anyone

And pretty girls make graves

(Oh, really?)

Oh…

I could have been wild and I could have been free

But nature played this trick on me

She wants it now

And she will not wait

But she’s too rough

And I’m too delicate

Then, on the sand

Another man, he takes her hand

A smile lights up her stupid face

(and well, it would)

I lost my faith in womanhood

I lost my faith in womanhood

I lost my faith…

Oh…

Hand in glove…

The sun shines out of our behinds…

Oh…