Someone would slip you a mix tape, and the next day, you would wake up a Smiths fan. It was a badge of being a mopey, dreamy kid. The sad, lonely songs made you fill up with happiness inside. Some days, they still do. Pop Louder Than Bombs on the old iPod, and you're 17 again (if your're not already, sweet and misunderstood and pining for someone somewhere:
Ask me, I won't say no, how could I?
Spending long summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse
To a bucktooth girl in Luxemburg