Out flat on his back.
Out flat on his back
And it’s all my fault,
Because I did it.
Under a coma
And his mind is black,
Yeah, his mind is black.
Doctors need a cure
To try and rid it.
I’m the one.
I’m the one
Who struck the blow
That cut him low.
I’m the one.
I’m the one
Who stomped him down
Into the ground.
It’s pushin’ on toward day.
Right on through evening,
And where is ol’ Frank March?
He’s lying in there bleeding.
If he should die
Then I should too.
For what I did to you
With my open fat mouth.
Yes. I did it.
I did it.
I did it.
Build a high steeple
That reaches the heights.
For all the people
To see and delight
In remembrance of
A man who all scorn –
The famous musician,
George Frederick Hilborn,
Who did it.
Will this be the end
Of George’s best friend?
Will Sally be good
And safe with this hood?
Tomorrow brings cries
To Jeanne’s hoping eyes?
Tune into the tale
Of the fool for scorn.
Put me in a cell
Where I won’t be mourned.
I’ve done it.
I’ve done it to Frank.
From the start,
From the start it stank.
I did it!
Illustration: Photo source unknown
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