Saw you and me on the coin-op tv
Frozen in fear every time we appear
A rare Smith song that could be interpreted as a distain for fame paints a Dylanesque nightmare populated by malevolent characters (the “jailer who sells personal hells / who’d like to see me down on my fucking knees”) and diabolical quotables (“everybody’s dying just to get the disease”) within a fuller-band arrangement that allows his luxurious harmonies to come to fuller fruition. The genuinely Beatles-esque melodic rise and fall on the word “TV” gives this lyric particular weight — the listener trapped in a particularly gorgeous depiction of the horrors of misrepresentation.
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