Jon G.

The yellow rose of Boulder
I suspect gave up the ghost
I suspect to gain control
Through a drug overdose

He just would not relent
I suspect to gain control
The price was quite costly
To get away from daddy

But men plugged in where he left off
And so confused them with the true Adolf
But all in pride for scores remain
To fathom how death is better
Than soiling a name

Carolyn, that is
Texas tea
Black gold

Upon this score remains
A new hope for the Academy
There are those in likeness to our lost friend
Who are in need of prevention
Not Cynthia Jane Anderson's end

So the winds blow back around
In incarnations and hues she is found
To live again, to pass on the trade
And sport a recovery, not the spade

I never had her
Now no man can
And those who did
Can grieve more than me
And me who never did
Can grieve all the more less

Sweet victory
In hands raised
They spitefully displayed
But who's living now?
And who is dead?

Can you trace the causes back to me?
Or was that an Act of God instead?
But explain how it happened
And it will explain your own damned guilt

Ding Dong
the witch is dead