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Sep 2010
Johnny in the garden
Cut his hair real close
Now
With the mower.

Says he's got a fever,
But you don't believe,
Yeah,
He's a liar.

Spanish Inquisition
Rocking through his heart
It's
Trying to find that

Very special section
Lets him love again.
No,
We can't have that.

Let's drag him down.

Shards of glass and pistols,
Mirror in the face,
We're
Out of focus.

Dart him in the eye.
Dart him in the eye.
Dart him in the eye.

Johnny's in the attic,
Hanging by a bulb.
He's
Left the light on.

Music's running over
Running out of time
See
How he's running.

Let's tear him down.

But we don't play that anymore.
Johnny's got a different score.
It's a song of roaches
And cathedrals that he sings -
An ode to ***** scatterings.
A white ribbon on his right *******.

Cigarette in limbo,
Space between the ears.
Dust:
Mite-specific.

Books of strings and theories
Numbers on the shelf
Un-
Finished papers.

He's so fine.
He's so fine.
He's such a

Passionate disposer,
Decomposing you.
So
Decomposing.

Let's yank him down.

Johnny, in the innards.
Lot of help, those ribs.
How
Much protection?

Never in a million
Needle in the hay
One
Into many.

Brother John is dying,
Agonizing pain-
Ful-
Ly apparent.

Choke, choke, choke.
Dance, dance, dance.
Chance, chance, chance.

Johnny Roach is down.
Johnny Roach is down.
©2010
Written by
Nat Yonce
1.0k
 
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