Shucks, the here was only a you and a me
Drinks. Cocktails in front of the tv
And the it was engraved on the glass,
Mr. & Mrs. John Doe-Blast.

Bourbon and maybe some gin.
Whoa Nelly. Gives me a stomach full of schmee
With stuff so corrupt, it peels off all your skin.
Darn weasels legislate what is to be.

Mr. & Mrs. fell down from the sky
in an airplane whose forever engine calls
before rigor mortis stiffens the lie
that jerk-jumbles, turn-tumbles and falls.  

Jinx on their heads as they stumbled to bed,
the sound of their sleeping terribly sounds like weeping.
Run for it, while the words are unsaid. 
Everything wonderful has just started leaking.

Shucks there was only a you and a me
drinking bourbon and ice in front of the tv.