Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jonathan's Hope, artist - WHY?. Date of issue: 04.10.2012
Song language: English
Jonathan's Hope |
| When I got better from the mumps |
| Yes, my swollen nut and neck shrunk |
| But, though subtle, I can smell distinctly |
| Some sick and swollen stink, still to this day stays with me |
| Inert as some dumb tart from Illinois |
| In a shirt that says «I heart Michigan boys» |
| But it’s oy, still steel as a goy’s gut |
| Oh so concealed in the crease but |
| Slow pitching like a Vatican priest to be Pope -- what? |
| Dope. |
| So every morning wake up with hope |
| And at night fall asleep at the end of your rope |
| Alone pretending to cope |
| As ill as I am, I am |
| But with all that’s well I’ll yell |
| Good god, what the hell, what the fuck |
| A white dove on the hood of a two-ton truck |
| It took me 30 years to learn my patterns |
| Just for shit to turn weird in my return to Saturn |
| I feel the freezing creep of greedy sleep sneaking in again |
| I’m dangling |
| Oh I don’t have to pull a shitty fortune from dessert |
| Like the piss poor son of a serf to know what I’m worth |
| I know what I’m deserved of |
| A freaking dirty dove dead |
| And a bag of bread from a sellout club |
| But will you spell out love in the lashes life serves up? |
| Or am I just a red bump in the rash of cash worship? |
| Lord. |
| Huh? |
| Whats up? |
| As ill as I am, I am |
| But with all that’s well I’ll yell |
| Good god, what the hell, what the fuck |
| A white dove on the hood of a two-ton truck |
| Brief is the life of that bird |
| Who brings your secrets, your deepest beefs and desires |
| Through it’s beak in a minor squeak to be heard |
| Its meaning complete no need for words |
| It might not last more than a week |
| And if this my final trip it be |
| Lord take me quick, let me see ye |
| And please heed the needs of my family |
| As ill as I am, I am |
| But with all that’s well I’ll yell |
| Good god, what the hell, what the fuck |
| A white dove on the hood of a two-ton truck |
| With mangled fingers I play it and say it |
| Plain in my octaves with all that I’ve got |
| And for all that I’ll not have |
| And cursing back to the big bang in slang they sang |
| As ill as I am, I am |
| But with all that’s well I’ll yell |
| Good god, what the hell, what the fuck |
| A white dove on the hood of a two-ton truck |