The first thing I remember
Upon meeting Johnny Mambo was his hat
I was staring in the eyeballs
Of a furry thing he’d fashioned from a cat
He swears he never killed it
And he kills me with the way he plays his drums
And the washboard on his belly
That he pleasures with his fingers and his thumbs
I was comfortable with Coma
As an old familiar blanket on the bus
With a future full of strangers
It was nice to see another one of us
He’s the heartbeat of the story
That we’re sharing here tonight
Singing in the shadows
With the spirit of a sacred bird in flight
Stephen Turner Bruton
He’s been something like a brother for so long
He’s a walking affirmation
That the pain that doesn’t kill you makes you strong
He can brighten up the nighttime
With the embers of the songs within his soul
With a Holy sense of humor
And the gift of spinning garbage into gold
Hook your soul into the rhythm
And the universal wonder of the song
You can feel it in your body
Like a hunger in the spirit getting strong
Turn the flame that burns inside you
Into body-blows that drive you like a slave
To the moment of creation
Of a precious thing you’ll carry to your grave
Words & Music by Kris Kristofferson c. Jody Ray Publishing, Inc. (BMI) All Rights Reserved