Ronny there sucks the sun upnFires the sugar-gunnYeah, his random needs are somethingnUnderstand: He is not as we arenMade of salt, in the shape of birds, how he shimmersnThere he sits by the waterlinenCement and jewels and his crimson robes of splendornDays have passed without incidentnDown the pyramids there is nothing else to seennAnd you know what they say: Nothing real's ever lostnThrow thing away every night hereafter...nnCoiling up in his dressing gownnWith his broken teeth and the dirty water in the kitchennWhat it is: He is paralyzednHe is sanctified by the god of nails and splinters,nCertainly knows his way around at this murder scenen(Hid the bloody shovels in the outhouse)nChastity and insomnia are a lousy mixnHis nights are longnnAnd you know what they say: Nothing real's ever lostnThrow the thing away every night hereafternnAnd so we say farewellnHe's doing fine nownHe's a piece of worknWhat else can you say now?nThe water's deepnThe water's blue and his young wife is smilingnThe sun is warmnHis crimes are paid forn(Or you would think so)nnRonnynRonny