Horace Johnson

Horace Johnson

My name is Harace Johnson
I been down for thirty years.
Doin' time in Sing Sing Prison
while the "Man" is walkin' tiers.

I shot a man in Syracuse,
and claimed it self-defense.
All the time that I been down,
no one proved my innocence.

My woman up and left me
for a guy who's free and clear.
She sent my "walkin' papers",
never shed a single tear.

The last time that I saw her
she cried and said she cared.
I asked her what she did for cash,
she wouldn't tell me how she faired.

Now she says our time is over,
our love had seen it's run.
I asked her who she's chasin' now,
Man, I wish I had my gun!

If I could get out on the street,
I wouldn't feed him any lies,
but I'd give him what he's lookin' for
a gapin' hole between the eyes.

A second shot right through the heart
then I'd wait and watch him die.
I'd stand above his cold dead corpse
and spit into his eye.

I know just what you're thinkin' now,
he still ain't learned his lesson,
but all I need is one more chance
with my old friends Smith & Wesson.

© Copyright 2006 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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