shane_macgowan raze your mouth was a moving metaphor for the opposite of what your songs were. they had sharp, beautiful teeth. the first one that bit me wasn't "dirty old town". it wasn't "fairytale of new_york" or even "a pair of brown eyes". it was a transmission from the middle of one of your least loved albums. i heard it in a film about an artist who died too young to feel the ripples his paintings made in the still pool that drowned him. your crumbling voice sank into a bed of twinkling piano, strummed acoustic guitar chords, tin whistle, tenor sax, cymbals, and kick drum, without a single snare hit in sight. you sang just one verse that wended its way into a chorus, celebrating eternal summer in a country flecked with the columns and spires of ancient temples. so much feeling in so few words, with rainbows snaking out of the belly of the moon. i always misheard it as the heat being alive inside of you instead of coursing through the contours of a place. i choose to go on hearing it that way. some things are more right when they're wrong. 231211 what's it to you? who go blather from