A real Spanish Lolita of a song that beats its eyelashes cruelly and then gallops over you. Boils over a bit, but when the ingredients settle down there's a decent Morrissey song waiting for its flavour to be drawn out. It's the usual Creation syndrome: a young man blabbing into his leather strides. But the tears certainly bring the sheen up something lovely. (Pete Paisley, Record Mirror, July 4, 1987)
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