Joe Shmoe & Jane Doe

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Joseph Danoski

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Just another John Doe; actually, Joe Shmoe
According to the tag hanging from his toe
Right place at the wrong time, or wrong place right
Chalk line on the sidewalk one crime-scene night

He's lying beside a looker, name: Jane Doe
At least that's what the tag says on her toe
The coroners flip coins, but still can't decide
If she's a 'silk stalking' or suicide

He remembers her from the days of his life
Thought that someday she'd be the perfect wife
The girl he worked with at the high school lab
They went to lunch once, and he paid the tab

Indeed she would have made a perfect wife
Lying quietly beneath the surgeon's knife
The mortician gives perfect tints to her skin
Joe is looking sad in the skin he's in

Years later in the city, they shared a cab
The girl he worked with in chemistry lab
His life had been drab, and hers had been fab
Again they parted ways, he paid the tab

The last time that he saw her was in rehab
He hadn't seen her since they shared the cab
Life gives us chances, but three strikes, you're out
And that's what this poignant song is about

Now they each sleep in their own body bag
His life was a bitch, her demise a drag
And even in death their lives seem to entwine
For one last time at the end of the line

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