Lyrics to 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
Jonathan's Hope Video:
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
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