Okay, so here’s a story about the devil you kids know so
well,
Because I’m sick and tired of writing things that won’t
sell.
The Devil, when in Russia a magician named Woland,
when in the desert a man in black chased by the gunslinger
named Roland,
Took my guitar and told me to go home, I’d never make it.
But I told him, ‘nuh-uh, my girlfriend never fakes it,
And you can’t make me move because God wants me here,’
To which the Devil says, ‘I took Daniel Johnston, so you
betta have fear!’
He says to me, ‘look, I can make you an offer.
Something so you won’t have to suffer.”
And I tell him his offer’s just fine,
As long as he keeps it out of mine.
He laughs and tells me I need this deal,
That this is it and the deal is real.
I tell him I don’t want to cheat or be cheated.
He tells me to ‘shut up or you’ll be deleted,’
And I tell him to go back where he came from,
And he laughs and tells me ‘come and get some,’
To which Buffy the Vampire Slayer surprises me from behind a tree,
slays the devil with holy water and ancient key.
While he’s cackling like hot coals about to go out,
I take my guitar back and tell him get out.
The devil acts all lame and really infantile,
So I lick my fingers for something I haven’t done in awhile.
I put him out with my fingertips in a heavy sigh,
Rolled myself a joint with Buffy and then got high.
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