John the Misanthrope

John the Misanthrope                                            February 28, 2006

To pay back, one must pay forward

And reach deep into their soul.

Well, this soul is all given out,

Tired, and all stone cold.

Perhaps I'm a just a mean ol' S.O.B.,

And I doubt you'll disagree

Once you get to know me,

John the Misanthrope.

Pain.  It's more than just a word.

It's more than a feeling,

For it's a frame of mind.

Mother divine, she can't cure me.

Nobody can, not even my shrink.

Call me Chester, but I won't blink.

It'll be a cold day in hell

Before I come trotting to the trough.

I'm John the Misanthrope,

And that's my decree.

I'm the meanest ol' cuss

In all the seven states of the South

That one can see from Lookout Mount

In Chattanooga town, TN.

Many have come to part the sea,

Only to come to hate mean ol' me,

For they learn that death

Is the only thing that'll change me.

If you're not a maggot,

Then I suggest you retreat to your hole.

I'm John the Misanthrope,

And that's my decree,

And if you don't comprehend, well,

I don't give a damn or two.

I have given all I possibly can,

Only to be constantly shot down.

I grow tired of trying to please

All of the greedy on this Earth.

Please, just give me some peace

Away from the pain and the grind,

For I'm only John the Misanthrope.

Just let me be.