Oh, Jáckie,
With your heart of gold
And your head of intelligence,
You manage to stir in the emotion
For which we miss.
Your love is ever-extending
Just as your fear of being alone is great.

Oh, Jáckie,
You will never fall for them
Their whippets of lies
And their arrows of agony
They can't hit you
But you can only run from them
Run you will, for they will chase you forever.

Oh, Jáckie,
Music to your ears
Is everyone else's fears
You gain from pain
You wallow from heartfelt
Is it their sorrow from which you feed?
Or is it the blood that streams free...

Oh, Jáckie...