Please allow me to introduce myself I’m a man of wealth and tasteBeen around for a long, long time Stole many a man’s soul to wasteI was ’round when Jesus Christ Has his moment of doubt and painMade damn sure that Pilate Washed his hands and sealed his fatePleased to meet you Hope you guess my name.Cause what’s confusing you is just the
Nature of my game.
I stuck around St. Petersburg When I saw it was time for a changeI killed the Tsar and his ministers Anastasia screamed in vainI rode a tank, held a general’s rank When the blitzkreig raged and the bodies stankPleased to meet you Hope you guess my name. Cause what’s puzzling you is just the Nature of my gameI watched with glee While your kings and queens Fought for ten decades For the Gods they madeI shouted out “Who killed the Kennedys?” When after all It was you and meAnd I laid traps for troubadours Who get killed before they reached BombayPleased to meet you Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah But what’s puzzling you Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, babyJust as every cop is a criminal And all the sinners saintsAs heads is tails Just call me Lucifer Cause I’m in need of some restraintSo if you meet me Have some courtesy Have some sympathy, and some tasteUse all your well-learned politesse Or I’ll lay your soul to waste, um yeahPleased to meet you Hope you guessed my name, um yeahBut what’s puzzling you Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get downWoo, who Oh yeah, get on downOh yeah Oh yeah! Tell me baby, what’s my name Tell me honey, can ya guess my nameTell me baby, what’s my name I tell you one time, you’re to blame Ooo, who Ooo, whoTell me, sweetie, what’s my name Ooo, who, who Ooo, who, who Ooo, who, whoOoo, who, who Ooo, who, who Ooo, who, who Ooo, who, who
A sometime journalist who used to string words together for a living before I retired to run a non-profit cycle touring organization that will henceforth go unnamed, as I have subsequently retired from that career as well. I write a bi-monthly column, theater reviews and an occasional magazine piece for my old newspaper. If I still had a business card it would read: Ron Cunningham: Trained Observer Of The Human Condition. Because like The Donald, you know, ego.
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