(In lieu of something really tasteless) Nick Cave, "Deanna"

I was so going to write a post about lousy ad campaigns, dead babies, real and fictional serial killers and discredited Freudian ideas about mother-son relations, and then I decided the prospective post was potentially tasteless even by my horrifically low standards and went no further with it than I already nearly had.

Regrettably, this left me with nothing else to write about today. So. Okay, then here's some reimagined Charles Starkweather by way of Nick Cave, "Deanna" (not "Caril", though it could be with one more syllable). Not sure if ol' Chuck spent too much time in mother's bed or not, but how much do we care where he's been?