Piggy in the Mirror.
Most folks know the Cure these days from their cute love songs
and Robert Smith- the lead singer- decked out in red lipstick, spiked black hair, and a
powdered face. One might ask, “How could this fellow be considered Goth?”
Well I offer this song as an explanation. Written in 1984 on a head full of LSD,
I derive the idea that Robert would have been a bored serial killer if he had not
become a pop icon. Investigate these lyrics and decide for yourself.
(lyrics)
Shapes in the drink like Christ
Cracks in the pale blue wall
I’m walking slowly and quickly but
Always away
Twisting twisting to the floor
Flowers in your mouth and the same dry
Song the routine from laughter land
16 white legs and a row of teeth
I watch you in secrecy
and you’re dying for the hope is gone
From here we go nowhere again
and I’m trapped in my face and I’m changing
Too much
I can’t climb out the way I fell in
Jump with me
For that forgotten dance
The midnight sun will burn you up
Your life is cold
Your life is hot
Your life’s too much for words
These occasions are such a relief
Another point of view to send
We start to talk
And it’s all so safe
I feed you in my dreams
Footsteps on a wire
High above my head
The stain reveals my real intention
I’m the waiting beast
I’m the twisted nerve
As I dance dance
Back to the body in my bed
Look at the piggy
Piggy in the mirror.
(not just a song about being fat)
Categories: Ted Giffin
Artist- Ted Giffin - Musician 
Ted, great cover, the lyrics are scary as shit! “16 white legs and a row of teeth”, really? Luckily a musical outlet was available. ~ Mia 🙂
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Yeah, my tween years were spent listening to this man. My father was disturbed by this. Ordering me to take the damn posters of the band of the wall. I complied. At the time , He might have had second thoughts about purchasing a stereo of my own.
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Gotta do what you gotta do. You got the stereo though, right? 😉
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Yeah, I got the stereo. He imposed another rule No Incense Burning. Here is the story behind that. He comes upstairs, opens door, tells me TURN DOWN THE VOLUME. Sniffs the air and says,” It smells like a Brothel in here.” He reared me to be a good smart-ass, so I replied, “Dad, how do YOU KNOW what a brothel SMELLS LIKE?” Thus, the new rule.
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Ha-ha! I’m laughing! Rules! At least it was only incense, kind of a smart mouth though. Maybe you were truly inquisitive? Ha-ha!
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