The rodents are home
The rodents are home
In the town of Magico
The search is for gold, and dust turns to coal
The presence felt is so at home
The dream is now dead
Sit up in my bed
Soon these innocents will leak red
The coroner says
The shooter is dead
Who knows what went wrong in his head?
The media lies
He was such a nice guy
No red flags or warning signs
Except he posted online
Just a couple of times
A violent manifesto disguised
As a permanent crutch
Of pain and no lust
It reached the point of bitter disgust
Oh, and who is to blame?
You will remember the name
Bringing the whole country to shame
Think about all the families
But your thoughts and prayers don't do anything
The dream is gone
Now you know John so well
Welcome to his hell
Now you know Actual John