I fell in love with the feeling of a sinking ship
It’s one of the most incredible afterthoughts
Watching a living man slowly killed alive
He was a philosopher once
And a man of God
We’d talk for hours
Of Nietzsche and life
The last I heard of him
Was he moving back to the big city
A braggable writing job
In a tiny single apartment
Finally alone.
He got shot in the head
With a paper bullet
In 1971.
I used to have a friend who talks
All kinds of philosophy and life
Now he just eats and play with his cock
He fucked virgins but never popped their cherries
And He left God alone too
He’d never think of seeing me again
Even when we live three stories below
One day he puts on a suit
With a shiny second-hand brief-case
He told me he’s gonna make big money
Assume a humble generous Renown
And become the slick of the town
Then I puked on his green leather shoes
And pulled out my magnum pistol
Thus I shot Johnny dead
In 1971
