12 Rounds

Mr. Johnson Take a Bow

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Mr. Johnson take a bow Most humble and sedate
Tired and weary lost were we The things that make you great
Cold and beaten and beyond And shot right through with hate
Smiled and lit our broken souls
These things that make you great
And old were we And born unfree
And ripped at all the seams And fraught with all That we had learnt
The knight of all our dreams Oooh Mr. Johnson one last bow And then leave us to fate Saved our bones and sucked our toes
The things that make you great
The things that make you great
These things that make you great


Autor(es): Atticus Ross / Claudia Sarne