Of everything I've known...and forgotten Nothing has ever meant more than thirteen people and Johnny Thunders Now that I find I've dreamed all my dreams And I'm at an age where I've discovered that hope is just another passing phase that you grow out of and checking out the "Rotten" website and reading Chuck Palahnuik and Hubert Selby Jr are the only things that make me laugh I can still just about remember thirteen people and Johnny Thunders When betrayal becomes a by-word for trust And memories leak away faster than youth and I find it hard to recall a time I didn't feel numb I can still bring to mind a skinny guy from New York With a big guitar and a bag full of songs Four guys in the band and nine in the crowd Including me Seventeen years old A virgin still In every sense of the word Seventeen with my hands around the heart of the world Who would ever have believed that back then we thought you could make something last forever And that it was simply the way of things to feel as good as I felt that night when the legendary Johnny Thunders brought his band to our nothing little town When I feel tired and burned out and there's nobody to tell I close my eyes and I see a skinny guy from New York with a big attitude and a bag full of trouble He's slumped down his amp and fallen over again but he'll be okay It's Johnny Thunders after all A legend no less The black leather rock n roll scarecrow drags himself upright and disappears behind his amplifier where he throws up all over the stage and exits stage left mid song...through the dressing room door the band carry on regardless and Walter takes over on vocals until a few minutes later somewhat rejuvinated Johnny bounces back plants one scarf wrapped and biker boot shod foot shakily on the stage monitor Striking a pose From the lip of the stage I call out to him "Hey Johnny...over here" His reptile eyes catch mine And in the silence between the bar chords and chewing gum chaos I'm born for this moment I'm born to lose my eyes in his Pupils like the point of a needle And then he speaks to me "This one's for the kid at the front here...this is a song called..." But then he forgets Breaks eye contact Looks around at the band And grinning he asks "Uh, what's it called again?" And so I tell him Twenty odd years later He never made it From the tracks on his arms to the tracks of my tears (And when I think of all those wasted years) Johnny was found dead alone in a hotel room in New Orleans And I'm still here In this nowhere town But I guess I should be grateful I'm still alive I think I've made that journey from youthful optimism to drugged resignation From seventeen years of age it took twenty seven years to get here and what have I learned? That there's no such thing as Father Christmas Ah well When the days are too still and the nights too dark And I'm feeling old and finding it hard to remember what it was I used to feel way back then ...what it meant to have a good time... And...well...just stuff y'know When there's nothing going on and there's no-one around I can still recall the name of the song that Johnny forgot And it's staying right here in this small place in my head reserved for the good things All the good things the years left behind In this place in my head which I'll share with the ghost of some skinny guy from New York who looked at me through pin pricked eyes and said... "Yeah man, that's the one" It's staying right here Between Johnny Thunders and me