John Wayne Gacy Jr by Sufjan Stevens

His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed

Folding John Wayne's t-shirts
When the swingset hit his head

The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation

Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast, in their sleep
Oh, the dead
Twenty-seven people
Even more, they were boys
With their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God...

Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red

And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed
He kissed them all
He'd kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took off all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth...

And in my best behavior
I am really just like him

Look beneath the floor boards
For the secrets I have hid