B.S. Johnson Lyrics

Write a book of debt everyone must pay
Exact revenge in a grotesque way

Build a taj mahal on vacation time
The kid will frag the sap before the ink is dry

Its as good as any joke I know

Write a book of leaves shuffled by the wind
Two unbound lives orderless and grim

Setup to ensure failing miserably
To sublimate a world into poetry

But make sure your last intentions known

You were dead by 42
There'll be no rigid form for you

Jammed into a plot that you'd never fit
A tiny manuscript with a whole cut in it

As you drifted off to sleep
My mother set bedtime for me

Terry cloth robe with a hand me down fit
Playing in the bath with a warship in it

You were gone by 42
There'll be no rigid form for you

Jammed into a plot where you never would fit
A tiny manuscript with a whole cut in it

As you drifted off to sleep
My mother set bedtime for me

Terry cloth robe with a hand me down fit
Playing in the bath with a warship in it