The Smiths
Rank

THE REVIEW

I'm here... behind me, thousands of boys and girls... yes, I think they are the ones who would want to die crushed together under a bus... go figure ‘these young people today... I can't see them... not from my position... but from their screams, I can distinctly recognize them... it seems like you can read their souls.

So different... in their clothes... in their frayed shirts... sweaty faces... eyes weary from the wait... but deep down so similar. Soon it will be my turn... they will arrive.

Andy and Mike, so reserved, almost apart... and Johnny... Johnny, with his dandy style and his touch, which you would recognize among a thousand... along with his black and white Rickenbacker... And then him... Tall... thin... from afar, just like anyone else... but up close you understand that it can't be so... they say he's a poet... I think so too... he will swim in his unbuttoned red shirt, with that bunch of flowers tucked into his jeans pocket... like the saddest of clowns... a kind of dancing oxymoron.

He will take me... he will use me... and I will be happy... And here... the time has come... I can hear their footsteps... and it will be wonderful...