A Girl Named Jone.

As I am left in the dark alone
I hear the ring of a silent phone. 
And through this silent phone I hear her moans.
I hear as they fade in light, light tones.

Interrupted by a great white stone
My frightened eyes where never known.
My gapping smile was quickly sewn.
Nervously I shiver, As I lay prone.

Across the way, a pile of bones.
The pile towering in shapes of cone.
Yet I still wonder what I had blown.
At best I say what I could have owned.
To say the least, A girl named Jone.

But after all that I've been shown
The explanation, I've been town.

Then I remember when I had flown
To the first time I used a hone.
To the effects of the color roan.

And you to thank for the drug you've sown?
And them to blame for the lose of Jone?