Introducing John Stanley Hart Songtext
Introducing John Stanley Hart, a newspaper tycoon who's obsessed with immortality.
Ah now Mr. Hart made his debut in a book called 'Apook Is Here'. Apook The Destroyer is the Mayan god of death.
From time to time Mr. Hart is just a bit ashamed of being the shit he knows he is. And he makes sporadic and rather unfortunate attempts to be a nice guy.
Nobody does more harm than people who feel bad about doing it.
God defend us all from a difficult decision in the Pentagon.
Sad poisoned nice guy, more poisoned than nice.
He entered the bar with the best intentions, the world of establishing warm human relationship with the local people, who have been up to now just standoffish. He walked into the bar with his fishing gear with a bit swagger. Have to stand up to these people you know, they respect you for it.
He found himself somewhat stonily received. Then turning from the bar with his mug of beer to face the room, he maladroitly snagged an old peasant in the scrotum with his fishing plug! He whipped out his switch-blade with a poorly timed attempt at easy joviality, 'Well I guess we'll just have to cut the while thing off!'
Turning away he made an ineffectual gesture of a New Yorker tycoon with his knife inadvertently blinding the proprietor's infant son.
Seeing that all his friendly overtures had fallen dementedly flat, he saw fit to withdraw as unobtrusively and expeditiously as possible.
Thank-you.
Ah now Mr. Hart made his debut in a book called 'Apook Is Here'. Apook The Destroyer is the Mayan god of death.
From time to time Mr. Hart is just a bit ashamed of being the shit he knows he is. And he makes sporadic and rather unfortunate attempts to be a nice guy.
Nobody does more harm than people who feel bad about doing it.
God defend us all from a difficult decision in the Pentagon.
Sad poisoned nice guy, more poisoned than nice.
He entered the bar with the best intentions, the world of establishing warm human relationship with the local people, who have been up to now just standoffish. He walked into the bar with his fishing gear with a bit swagger. Have to stand up to these people you know, they respect you for it.
He found himself somewhat stonily received. Then turning from the bar with his mug of beer to face the room, he maladroitly snagged an old peasant in the scrotum with his fishing plug! He whipped out his switch-blade with a poorly timed attempt at easy joviality, 'Well I guess we'll just have to cut the while thing off!'
Turning away he made an ineffectual gesture of a New Yorker tycoon with his knife inadvertently blinding the proprietor's infant son.
Seeing that all his friendly overtures had fallen dementedly flat, he saw fit to withdraw as unobtrusively and expeditiously as possible.
Thank-you.