~*The Ballad of Little Jony Paper*~

Little Jony Paper, he was borne of bad seed, such a wicked wee infant the nurses feared to feed.

Little Jony grew angry, Little Jony grew mean.

He'd never love too much, not of anything to be seen.

His head, folks said, was crumpled inside.

Even little Jony'd never claim they ever lied.

Blackest charcoal & broken crayons wrote the scribbles of his dreams

& if you ever saw them you'd wake to fitful screams.

Little Jony, he was angry, Little Jony, he was mean.

He never loved too much of anything ever seen.

Little Jony Paper he had guts like butchers wrappings,

all entwined with darkest trappings, warped brown & wrinkled through.

They bore the crusty stains of foulest fluids from that blackness what he grew..

Little Jony Paper had a heart wove cold as straw.

He'd never loved too much, no thing he'd ever saw.

No sugar, no spice nor whiskers on kittens.

Jony's care for small creatures left blood stains on his mittens..

Little Jony, he was angry, Little Jony, He was MEAN..

So Jony never learned to love...

Jony Paper, He was angry, Jony, he was mean.

His soul it was all twisted, hollow & hard, like wicker cabinet ruins,

withed, weathered & marred.

Jony Paper had no name for God, no use, no curse, nor even thought.

Jony Paper he was angry, Jony Paper, he was mean.

Jony was darkness & that's just what he wrought..

Year after year, Jony grew more angry, Jony grew more mean,

Jony never loved no thing, not any he'd seen.

Not summer, not winter, not spring nor fall.

Jony Paper had no love, no love at all..

When Jony died he went to Hell, a fiery pit or so some tell

but Jony did not care you see ?

For Little Jony Paper, he burned fast, he burned well.

Written By SaintPainEdit

User SP Bad Medicine SaintPainThat was broke afore I got here. 08:26, July 21, 2012 (UTC)