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Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down
Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down
Lesley-Anne, with your pretty white beads
Oh John, you'll never be a man
And you'll never see your home again
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Edward, see those alluring lights ?
Tonight will be your very last night
A woman said : "I know my son is dead
I'll never rest my hands on his sacred head"
Hindley wakes and Hindley says :
Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, and says :
"Oh, wherever he has gone, I have gone"
But fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
Fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
Hindley wakes and says :
Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, and says :
"Oh, whatever he has done, I have done"
But this is no easy ride
For a child cries :
"Oh, find me...find me, nothing more
We are on a sullen misty moor
We may be dead and we may be gone
But we will be, we will be, we will be, right by your side
Until the day you die
This is no easy ride
We will haunt you when you laugh
Yes, you could say we're a team
You might sleep
You might sleep
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
Oh, you might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !"
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Oh, find me, find me !
Find me !
I'll haunt you when you laugh
Oh, I'll haunt you when you laugh
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
Oh...
Over the moors, I'm on the moor
Oh, over the moor
Oh, the child is on the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down
Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down
Lesley-Anne, with your pretty white beads
Oh John, you'll never be a man
And you'll never see your home again
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Edward, see those alluring lights ?
Tonight will be your very last night
A woman said : "I know my son is dead
I'll never rest my hands on his sacred head"
Hindley wakes and Hindley says :
Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, and says :
"Oh, wherever he has gone, I have gone"
But fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
Fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
Hindley wakes and says :
Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, and says :
"Oh, whatever he has done, I have done"
But this is no easy ride
For a child cries :
"Oh, find me...find me, nothing more
We are on a sullen misty moor
We may be dead and we may be gone
But we will be, we will be, we will be, right by your side
Until the day you die
This is no easy ride
We will haunt you when you laugh
Yes, you could say we're a team
You might sleep
You might sleep
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
Oh, you might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !"
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Oh, find me, find me !
Find me !
I'll haunt you when you laugh
Oh, I'll haunt you when you laugh
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
Oh...
Over the moors, I'm on the moor
Oh, over the moor
Oh, the child is on the moor
Lyrics submitted by weezerific:cutlery
Track duration: 05:31
"Suffer Little Children" as written by Johnny Marr, Steven Patrick Morrissey
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Thanks everyone for the above comments, it's really helped me appreciate Mozza's empathy towards the victims and his fascination with Myra Hindley.
My research tells me that he was born in 59 and the Moors Murders were in 63-65 - so you can imagine the nightmares kids his age and moreso their parents were having at the time.
In Sydney it was the Wanda Beach murders in 1965 that shocked a nation - but unfortunately we don't have a Morrissey to so eloquently and beautifully elucidate it. Well done Johnny Marr too!!
Then I looked it up. Holy shit. Easily the creepiest song I've ever heard.
Chilling, no matter how you look at it. Deft handling of a very difficult subject.
Now I read the news and five teenagers surround one of their classmates, pour alcohol on him and set him on fire. He survives but obviously will never truly recover. Idiots on news sites post comments like, "He snitched; well now he's learned his lesson." Shit they stole his father's bicycle and he was supposed to keep his mouth shut to protect these unspeakable thugs? The occasional sociopath I'd expect, but apparently there are now a significant proportion of people out there with no consciences.
Hysteria about crime is usually misguided but sometimes I can understand it.
My friend told me about it, because I'm 15 and obviously can't remember these murders, and she told me the line 'Oh John, you'll never be a man...' and explained.
Very scary.