First time a sir Johnny
Was wrapped around the sign post trying
To cross the road
He wore a bright pink t-shirt
Without a care for his hair
White dreadlocks go down to his toes
Almost collapsing
In the wind with a laundring
He made the other side in due time
And once he crossed the road
You could see in his eyes he lost his mind a few too many times
And he feels the love
And he feels the hate
And both of these are here to stay
As long as he feigns that healthy balance
Between the two
You will see that
He will keep on pushing on through
His name is Johnny
He hasn't got many friends
He's old enough to be my granddad
But he acts like he's my son
With the sun shining outside
He's in a room with the lights on
And the curtains closed
With a high-pitched, skinny voice
Suppose strange, uninviting
He recites his own prose
He spoke of African night skies and the siluettes of elephants, stars and monkeys
After every verse
He would look around
To see the pictures painted by his words
And they feel his love
And they feel his hate
And both of these are here to stay
As long as he feigns that healthy balance
Between the two
Which really isn't that easy to do
You will see that
We will keep on pushing on through
His name is Johnny
He hasn't got many friends
He's old enough to be my granddad
But he acts like he's my son
My son
My son
My son

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