His

fa-

ther

was

a

drin-

ker

and

his

mo-

ther

cried

in

bed

Fol-

ding

John

Wayne's

t-

shirts

when

the

swing-

set

hit

his

head

The

neigh-

bors

they

a-

dored

him

For

his

hu-

mor

and

his

con-

ver-

sa-

tion

Look

un-

der-

neath

the

house

there

Find

the

few

li-

ving

things,

rot-

ting

fast,

in

their

sleep

Oh

the

dead

2

7

peo-

ple

E-

ven

more,

they

were

boys,

with

their

cars,

sum-

mer

jobs

Oh

my

God

Are

you

one

of

them?

He

dressed

up

like

a

clown

for

them

With

his

face

paint

white

and

red

And

on

his

best

be-

ha-

vior

In

a

dark

room

on

the

bed

he

kissed

them

all

He'd

kill

ten

thou-

sand

peo-

ple

With

a

slight

of

his

hand,

run-

ning

far,

run-

ning

fast

to

the

dead

He

took

off

all

their

clothes

for

them

He

put

a

cloth

on

their

lips,

qui-

et

hands,

qui-

et

kiss

on

the

mouth

And

in

my

best

be-

ha-

vior

I

am

real-

ly

just

like

him

Look

be-

neath

the

floor

boards

For

the

se-

crets

I

have

hid