They call him Joe The Dragon
He’s on the water wagon
He’s got that look of mourning and concentration on his face
Carries a 38 special
A six inch barrel
The saddest damn man in the entire human race
Mojo
Joe’s mind is full of motors(?)
He is always taking photos
Of the remains of his beserk little twists
Yes swap-card polaroids
Of his little golden boys
18 carat corpses with wired wrists
Mojo
Blood thicker than water will flow
The fire will eat the streets of old Soho
Daddy’s out the back with little Joe
With his vaseline and his violin and bow – Mojo
Down on Compton(?) Road
Joe ain’t never going home
Till he finds what he is searching for
Well mad Mathildas in his jacket
They crank and make him record(?)
As he does and make his funny little laugh and dance upon your floor
