[note for the uninformed: Joe Strummer = member of the Clash {you should have known that (i don't know why, you just should) not that it matters in the large scheme of things, i mean there's lots more interesting things to know about: quasars, Babylonians, the real name of the metal thingie that holds the eraser on the end of your perncil, the philosophy of Hegel, those little. . what? nevermind.} He was the guitarist].

Behind those eyes on my Clash poster

which doth in the corner of my room hang

there be blood on the wall.

cause i killed a man.

A butterknife now beside my stereo layeth.

Was this perchance the weapon of my choice?

Or some mere butterknife that hath lost its way?

(but anyway, this guy is like, dead & stuff)

[i was looking under my bed the other day

and i found a bagel

and it wasn't overly moldy or nothin'

and you see i was really hungry.

{i bet you think i ate it.

(What kind of a freak do you think i am?!??)}

i put it back.

Maybe in a few weeks, it'll grow some atypical fungus and i'll get to be

on the Richard Bey show with the Jesus tortilla woman.

Do you ever wonder where mold comes from?

A friend once told me that dead things get moldy a lot.

{oh yeah. . ..that's the guy i killed.}]

A bloodied corpse betwixt my bed and dresser doth lie.

Or wouldst lie, had i not misplaced the body.

[which i am certain would have been properly mangled

& perhaps even showing signs of dismemberment]

oh yes, they say there's no proof,

but i know what that patch of red behind Joe Strummer's eye is

cause i killed a man.