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This here a song, is about John W Smoke Junior |
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It's about bein' in love and lovin' the love that's hatin' the love |
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the love and the love and the hate that's lovin with all |
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It's around the love that's hate that's the hate that's the love |
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And the love is the love that is the hate that's hatin' the love, |
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it's lovin' the hate |
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It's about John W Smoke's mom, it's with his mom |
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it's about his mom it's about his mom it's about lovin his mom |
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and bein' without his mom and lovin' the hate that's hatin' the love |
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and his mom and all the time they're there |
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Hatin' the hate that's lovin' the hate it's love it's the love that's hate |
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And it goes somethin' about like this |
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John E Smoke, oh John E Smoke |
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John Smoke, oh John E Smoke |
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Whaoh John E Smoke, John E John E John E John |
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John, John Smoke |
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John E Smoke |
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Here we go |
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John, John was a little crippled midget lesbian boy |
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but stood ten foot tall with a knife |
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Pretty soon the mole had appeared on John's left leg |
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and real black it extended out 469 different miles |
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and veirly veirly it was 69 different nuns |
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speaking simotainesouly to John in 69 different languages |
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And then it evolved itself and it was the legless dog that became |
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a cyclone in John's fater's fore head |
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And there is was like a twinkie with a halo storm in it |
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and it revolved down into the sky and talked to John |
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like he was a little puppy himself |
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And John said that I am not the magma, I am not the crust |
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and I shall evolve when the rain had come down here and was hed on John |
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And he said that I will be a cigerrate butt before it's all done with |
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And they said no, you are the flame itself and you shall burn pure |
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in the South American sky where the blooddogs worship the stairway |
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John E Smoke, oh John E Smoke |
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oh John Smoke, ooo OW! |
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John E Smoke, oh John E Smoke |
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oh oh John E Smoke |
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oh John E John E John E John E John E John E John E John E John E |
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John E John E Jooooooooooooooooo |
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And so brainlessly leglessly hairlessly the foil tip top of itself, |
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and revealed to John that the kiawe twe luxury liner extended out of John's left side |
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And so it had preach you in Mars with a saram backwards |
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and upwardly they did evole |
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Downward they fell like a thin sheet of waste product that would come over John's body |
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His body was no longer the primeval express itself |
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And he could be the dog and the dog's eyes which had blood comin' out like they were |
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roped around John's leg and pulled him up, like he was a canoe and and he flew |
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on the live peasents himself, the South American where he was in love |
