Dandy Jon
04-05-2008, 07:22 PM
Existentialism Carrots
To and fro
You go, go on
To and fro
Infinite madness always creates sadness
Melancholy blues
Revolutionize this heart of mine
Sipping raspberry juice from a wine glass
I drink no alcohol or wines
The glass just looks good in my hand
To and fro
You, you ho
Always going and doing whatever
Like a 20th century movement, like a dandy
Such as me, without the guns and poetry
Just for show
Existentialism, eating carrots
And sucking the life out of the art you claim to create
To and fro
Off you go
Fucking ho
To and fro, go
Just go
The Turnip King
He sat on his throne
Feeling somewhat alone
No one liked turnips, but he couldn't help but
Claim the notion of calling himself
The Turnip King
Looking mundane, slightly mean
His facial features
Almost made him look fifteen
He read endless poems
From a Dandy named Jon
Baffled by his theories about
Existentialism in carrots
Baffled, his theories were
Twisted and unsung
"surely, if there is existentialism in carrots, there must be abstracts in turnips"
The Turnip King pondered
Existentialisms and Carrots (and silent films about popcorn and candy corn)
He had other thoughts to think of
And he loved his candy and pop corn
The Turnip King sat on his throne
Watching television and Barbara Walters
Watching The View
Was his favourite pastime
Clammy hatchet faced trolls
Sitting in chairs
The Turnip King thought
This show was the shit
Still bothered by theories
Of carrots and existentialisms
The Turnip King got up
To create his abstracts
"if these turnips don't shine bright, I will not ponder this plight, oh curse you Dandy Jon"
"curse your poetry, your theories and weirdness, ignorance is bliss and you of all people shall see this"
He turned off his TV and began to create
The abstracts of turnips
The existentialisms of its foul taste
The Turnip King sighed
And he began to cry
His theories in abstracts
Was all but undone
He sat back down and began to mope
He lit up a spark
And began to smoke his dope
His turnips turned rotten
And he was left alone
The Turnip King realised
That he was the only person
Who liked the turnips and their foul taste
He cursed the name of the Dandy
Dandy Jon, you cretin
Your theories of carrots and existentialisms
Have destroyed my life
And if you weren't gay
I'd burn your house, rob you of your money
And steal your wife
-Jon Powder-
To and fro
You go, go on
To and fro
Infinite madness always creates sadness
Melancholy blues
Revolutionize this heart of mine
Sipping raspberry juice from a wine glass
I drink no alcohol or wines
The glass just looks good in my hand
To and fro
You, you ho
Always going and doing whatever
Like a 20th century movement, like a dandy
Such as me, without the guns and poetry
Just for show
Existentialism, eating carrots
And sucking the life out of the art you claim to create
To and fro
Off you go
Fucking ho
To and fro, go
Just go
The Turnip King
He sat on his throne
Feeling somewhat alone
No one liked turnips, but he couldn't help but
Claim the notion of calling himself
The Turnip King
Looking mundane, slightly mean
His facial features
Almost made him look fifteen
He read endless poems
From a Dandy named Jon
Baffled by his theories about
Existentialism in carrots
Baffled, his theories were
Twisted and unsung
"surely, if there is existentialism in carrots, there must be abstracts in turnips"
The Turnip King pondered
Existentialisms and Carrots (and silent films about popcorn and candy corn)
He had other thoughts to think of
And he loved his candy and pop corn
The Turnip King sat on his throne
Watching television and Barbara Walters
Watching The View
Was his favourite pastime
Clammy hatchet faced trolls
Sitting in chairs
The Turnip King thought
This show was the shit
Still bothered by theories
Of carrots and existentialisms
The Turnip King got up
To create his abstracts
"if these turnips don't shine bright, I will not ponder this plight, oh curse you Dandy Jon"
"curse your poetry, your theories and weirdness, ignorance is bliss and you of all people shall see this"
He turned off his TV and began to create
The abstracts of turnips
The existentialisms of its foul taste
The Turnip King sighed
And he began to cry
His theories in abstracts
Was all but undone
He sat back down and began to mope
He lit up a spark
And began to smoke his dope
His turnips turned rotten
And he was left alone
The Turnip King realised
That he was the only person
Who liked the turnips and their foul taste
He cursed the name of the Dandy
Dandy Jon, you cretin
Your theories of carrots and existentialisms
Have destroyed my life
And if you weren't gay
I'd burn your house, rob you of your money
And steal your wife
-Jon Powder-