John Wayne Gacy, Jr. Sufjan Stevens
capo I
[Em]His father was a dr[D]inker
And his m[Bm]other cried in [C]bed
[Em]Folding John Wayne's T-sh[D]irts
When the [Bm]swingset hit his[C] head
...and repeat...
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The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead
Twenty-seven people, even more
They were boys with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God
Are you one of them?
He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all
He'd kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took of all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss
On the mouth
And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid
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