I had a quite intense digital training course last week so obviously rather than implement all I'd learned I wrote a sort of gothy song.
Verses: picked Am7 – Fmin then Gmin6 (3rd fret D string, and wobbly)
Chorus: C-F-Gmin6 or whatever it is
Middle 8 has a bluesy lick based round 3rd fret on G and B strings (then open strings), and 3rd fret on D string/open D
______________________
There was a boy called Johnny
who was feeling alone.
He had nobody with him
He was all on his own.
He had a lot to give
but nothing to share.
He looked for friends to love him
But there was nobody there.
He prayed to God and Buddah
and all of the saints.
His prayers were never answered.
For him there was no grace.
One night poor lonely Johnny
met the Devil in a dream.
The goat said, “Oh my boy
I can help you, believe me:
wherever you go from this day on
you’ll never be walking the path alone.”
Johnny woke up smiling.
Could it be true?
Would he meet a somebody,
at last be one of two?
He met a Sticky Man who followed him home.
A Sticky Man ten steps back on the road.
Sticky Man standing guard as he slept;
Sticky Man looming at the end of his bed.
He was a Sticky Man.
Johnny went to work
with a spring in his step.
Johnny had a friend
who would never escape.
But still no-one saw Johnny,
nor his new Sticky Man.
They all walked straight on past him
and nothing had changed.
But he had a Sticky Man following him in the dark.
A Sticky Man watching him taking a bath.
And Sticky Man never uttered a word.
He never talked to Johnny or looked at him straight.
He was a Sticky Man.
Time passed and Johnny became mad.
His Sticky Man wouldn’t give him a glance.
A useless golem, footsteps plodding always.
Just within his eyeline for the rest of his days.
Johnny couldn’t take it
his life shrank and faded.
Little Johnny, the lonely boy
Could not shake off the shameful, clayful Sticky Man.
At the end of his tether
Johnny cried on the cliffs.
Stared down, a hundred metres
to the rocks on the shore.
He took ten steps back
and he started to run.
And half a pace behind him
Sticky Man did the same
Johnny jumped and so did Sticky Man
And one landed in mortal pain,
impaled on the harsh rocks
blood swirling in the spray.
And with his final breath
the Sticky Man said:
“You tricked me, my Johnny,
I thought we were friends.”
But Johnny just floated down
with the parachute he’d disguised
in his rucksack. Maybe now
he could reclaim his life.
Sticky Man, dying there on the sharp rocks.
Sticky Man, who had finally spoke.
Sticky Man rode on the wash of the waves.
As Johnny glided down he saw it fade away:
No more Sticky Man.
So Johnny lived his life
in his own company.
Didn’t bother no-one.
Didn’t want nobody.
He worked, he retired,
nothing of consequence
til his own death day came
and he lay in his bed.
He was ready to go.
He was sick of his life.
He yearned to be free
of the world he despised.
His eyes, old and rheumy,
with flickering light
were ready to close for ever.
But just before he died
he heard
a voice:
“I’m the Sticky Man and I’ve come back for you.
The Sticky Man always sees every job through.
Johnny-Man, now you’re reaching the end,
Sticky Man’s come back to help you ascend.”
Johnny looked up
with his last ebb of strength
and saw the Sticky Man
standing, smiling at him.
Johnny died. But he died with a happy heart.
His life was worthwhile if just one soul was sad.
The Sticky Man
held Johnny’s warm hand
Til it was cold.
And went back to the Devil
with Johnny's sold soul.
He was the Sticky Man.
Always the Sticky Man.
So near, the Sticky Man.
Beware the Sticky Man.
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