Michael's Bones.
(morrissey)

Michael's bones
Lay where he fell,
Face down on a sports ground.

He was just somebody's luckless son
Oh, but now look what he's done.
Oh, look what he's done.

Your gentle hands are frozen,
And your unkissed lips are blue;
Your thinning clothes are hopeless
And no one was mad about you.

Michael's bones
Were very young,
But they were never to know.......
Impetuous fun.

Mr. Policeman, I don't know
Where you get such notions from.

His gentle hands are frozen
And his unkissed lips are blue.
But his eyes still cry...

And now you've turned the last bend,
And see - are we all judged the same at the end?
Tell me, tell me.

Oh, lucky thing
You are too brave,
And I'm ashamed of myself
As usual.