Johnny had a habit
didn't stand a chance
walked right up behind him
stabbed him in the back

Johnny had a habit
turning skin to black and blue
Irish fists bust into lips
fractured wrists and fingertips
anything to get a kick
slit his belly with a blade
argues that he's not insane
jesus wounds make him a saint

Johnny liked to play Roulette
gambled on the losing bet
win or lose it's all the same
claims it's how you play the game

Johnny had a hard on
booze and broads were both to blame
screwed into forgetfullness
big-lipped chicks who fought to maim
were'nt afraid of dirty games
wet his bed with gunshot stains
what is love without the pain

Johnny had it coming
didn't stand a chance
laid right down beside him
shot him in the back

Amen,
Lydia Lunch.

And so like most things, we come to an end; most likely it's dead.