James Blunt's song "You're Beautiful," that is supposedly sweet mom-rock, came on a radio station at work (I didn't pick it). The lyrics are not only poor, with forced rhymes in his wheezing choking-on-painkillers voice ("My life is brilliant / My love is pure / I saw an angel / Of that I'm sure."), but they're also pretty damn creepy:
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that
'cause I've got a plan.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'cause I'll never be with you.
So you have a plan but you don't know what to do? That doesn't even make sense, dickhead.
Here's what you should do: You leave this poor woman alone before her much more deserving boyfriend/husband beats the piss out of you. In public.
You're obsessing over someone you saw in the subway once? This dude must not see attractive women very often. I can understand remembering her, but this piece of voyeurism is kinda trashy and very alarming.
Sorry, moms [and daughters]; holiday-themed fabric-painted sweatshirts are one thing, but if you actually like this sugary turd, your crappy taste is also really uncomfortable. So stop it. Unless you really want to patronize inept perverts everywhere.
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