“Oh Mother, I can feel
the soil falling over my head.
And as I climb into an empty bed...
Oh well. Enough said.
I know it's over; still I cling
I don't know where else I can go.
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?”
—Morrissey, the Smiths