He lived upstairs from me,
Of a walk -up on MacDougall Street,
He ran a traveling magic show,
He talked of death and chess,
He wore a purple robe with
Embroidered round a silver globe
His room was full of screens
And dusty yellow magazines
He paid me back with tricks
He called them feat s of press
And then one night last fall,
And two men jumped me in the hall
And giggled as he took a slice
He pressed it to my throat
Just like a sinking ship that's in distress
It dropped those men like stones,
and the air was filled with the sound
of screams and breaking bones,
into the night of its creation,
leaving behind a grim and bloody mess.
La la la la la, la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
And why I'll never know, but right away
I ran upstairs to Mario to tell my tale.
but I could see that he was dead.
there was a smile of such elation,
Not even death could deal his happiness
At one last great beat of
La la la la la, la la la la la la
La la la la la, la la la la la
La la la la la, la la la la la la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la,
la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, you