Another one is gone today, this time it's John Prine
Time to check him out and spin a few
I never really listened when he was in his prime
But listening now's the most that I can do
He sings of drug-fueled fantasies and morphine-addled vets
He sings in metaphors and homespun words
But when I hear him singing, I hear a risky bet
That dying is the best way to get heard
I might go to heaven, or I might go hell
I might hit the top of the charts
If that's what it would take to get my shit to sell
I guess I'll take a bullet to the heart
It worked for Kurt and Jimi, Janis, Bob, and John
We recognize them all from their first names
Closing the book on life don't mean you won't live on
Cause cutting short's just playing the long game
But I don't know if I'm ready to pluck my final string
So don't go say goodbye, just knock on wood
The ticket to Parnassus ain't nearly a sure thing
First I need to write something good
I might go to heaven, or I might go hell
I might hit the top of the charts
If that's what it would take to get my shit to sell
I guess I'll take a bullet to the heart
Some day in the future, in some dusty dollar bin
My face will catch some young aspirant's eye
They will heed these words when they plug me in
And I'll be singing when they choose to die
I might go to heaven, or I might go hell
I might hit the top of the charts
If that's what it would take to get my shit to sell
I guess I'll take a bullet to the heart