John Wayne Gacy, Jr. (Sufjan Stevens cover)
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his father was a drinker and his mother cried in bed, folding john wayne's t-shirts when the swingset hit his head, the neighbors they adored him for his humour and his conversation, look underneath the house there, find the few living things rotting fast in their sleep, oh 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 facepaint 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 the slight of his hand, running far, running fast to the dead, he took off all their clothes for them, he put a cloth on their lips, quite 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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