So the story goes

The story goes they know every detail
The story goes you know the books that I’m in
So the story goes I’ve been self-destructive
Everybody knows that I’m steeped in sin
Everybody knows I’ve got no sense of humour
I’m too morose and too damn peculiar
And the weakness shows

The story goes that I’d give up gladly
Everybody knows a deadman’s prose
Everybody knows that I’ve fucked up badly
I’m just hanging on by the length of my nose
Everybody knows I’ve only got one song
And it’s much too slow and it’s much too long
And this is how it goes

Everybody knows this is some kinda diary
The story goes in some unsecret code
It’s always later rather than sooner
I’m always there when the punch line explodes
The story goes I’ve got the world by the horns
And all this from a well-dressed fawn
And there’s something gone wrong

“A lot of the record,” Rowland sighs, “is about other people’s perceptions of you and how if enough people treat you in a certain way that’s what you become after a while. For years people have described records I’ve made as being depressing, and admittedly I’ve made a lot of melancholic records, but I don’t find records like that depressing. I find Buck’s Fizz depressing… or any music that expresses no humanity. And also I’ve just got tired of the group being viewed as this humourless… thing. There’s always been a lot of irony in the songs; people seem to take so much at face value, so literally, and that’s a shame.” (Guitarist Magazine 1993)