John

Verse 1

I hear John’s lungs a-coughin’,

He’s coughin’ 'round the bend,

And John’s been smokin’ since I don’t know when.

He’s got three packs of smokes,

And he keeps draggin’ on,

But his cough keeps rollin’

On down to San Antone.

Verse 2

When he was just a baby,

His mama told him, "Son,

Always do a bump, boy,

Don’t ever pay for none."

But I paid for ass in Reno,

Just to watch her cry.

When I hear that whistle blowin’,

I hang my head and cry.

Verse 3

I bet there’s rich folks smokin’

In a fancy dining car,

They’re probably drinkin’ coffee

And smokin’ big cigars.

Well I know I keep a-coughin’,

I know I can’t be free,

But those lungs keep movin’,

And that’s what tortures me.

Verse 4

Well, if they freed me from this prison,

If that big bump was mine,

I’d cut it with a razor,

Make a one inch by ten inch line.

Far from coughin’ up a lung,

That’s where I want to stay,

And I’d let those ten kilos

Blow my blues away.