First you sang about drugs
Then you sang about death
But you wanted to sing of love
With your last breath
Some said you were putting them on
Some say you pulled it off
You said even Keats was never alone
Yeah, with the company of his cough
So you burn your fever prayers
And you scared your dearest friends
And you cackled at your visage
And watched it disappear through an amber lens
Through an amber lens!
You called me from a hothouse trailer
Are you gonna come and rescue me?
I ain't ask for many favors
Now I'm need'n one for free
Because my violin just exploded, man
From this goddamn Georgia heat
It happened in the middle of the night
I swear my soul was tak'n leave
Of my body
Of my body!
You said parachutes are for deserters
That's why you splashed into the trees
If anyone reads the papers
They know the story that I mean
You can get yourself to a nunnery dear
Just try and bolt the door
The holy ones are delirious
Or else curled upon the kitchen floor
The kitchen floor!
Oh Sonny, Sonny, Sonny
I'm holding this old photograph of you
You are waving at someone out of frame
I'd give anything to know who
Is it one of your farewells
But how the hell do you do?
O Sonny, Sonny, I suppose
You got some pictures of me too
Sonny was written by Simon Joyner.