Winehouse disappeared into the back for about an hour to write. What she reemerged with was great: bleak, but funny; tough, but hopelessly romantic. - ♪ We only said goodbye in words, I died a thousand times. ♪ "Doesn’t it have to rhyme?” Ronson asked her to change it, but she just gave him a blank look. “Like, ‘What do you mean, change it? That’s how it came out—I don’t know how to 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 it.'”