I am the ghost of Troubled Joe
Hung by his pretty white neck
Some eighteen months ago
I travelled to a mystical time zone
And I missed my bed
And I soon came home
They said :
"There's too much caffeine
In your bloodstream
And a lack of real spice
In your life"
I forced you to a zone
And you were clearly
Never meant to go
Hair brushed and parted
Typical me, typical me
Typical me
And some may say
When usually it's Nothing
Surely you're happy
It should be this way ?
How do you start ?
Where do you go ?
Who do you need to know ?
(heres to the seemingly eternal staying power of the smiths)
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Blessed Be.