Lyrics

It's time to find her only son Chained up to a tree To try and save the ancient forest From the logging industry And Johnny was a smart old handsome Wrapped around a log And but he holds himself for ransom Steps out of the fog Forgot to call the reporters Forgot to tell the news And now he's gone but it sis still there With a little white cross below it A sacrifice park, a mile square Forgotten by those who know it But every once in a while a woman comes Dressed in a black lace curtain To offer pride and guilt for hеr son Both of which uncertain Forgot to call the reportеrs Forgot to tell the news Forgot to lend a chance to live In someone else's shoes Sometimes a passion seems it's useless To get where you want to go But just a passion must be ruthless All them things you know Forgot to call the papers Perhaps the plan was found But he makes a deadly tabloid What was left was found His love took a course in marriage But never wondered why Her classy horse and carriage Took her kid for the ride, for the ride Forgot to call the papers Perhaps the plan was found But he makes a deadly tabloid What was left, what was left was found