Desperate Time Prose: Volume IV
I was riding on my pony, spied some natives up ahead
I dismounted good old Betsy, we hid in the river bed
Took out my Smith and Wesson, taking aim I cocked my gun
But there’s something bout a head-shot, really lacks a certain fun
Within my sight I saw three cattle thieves, natives they were not
I could shoot ‘em now or kill ‘em close with a weapon I have got
Cause they’re ain’t no finer way to make a cattle thiever dead
Than with a swiftly sick sadistic, Lead Pipe to the head
Oh,
My Lead Pipe Baby, She’s colder than steel
When I hold her in my arms she makes my skin congeal
Whenever we go out, she makes her presence known (she screams)
Homicidal realtor, find a new cerebral home for me
I climbed aboard Old Betsy, my trusted noble steed
To pick a better spot to hide and place for her to feed,
Cookin’ up an ambush, silence covering my sight
I saw those bastards set up camp and pass out drunk goodnight
I thought I'd - Get em close so they could smell my baby cold as ice
The only - Swift sadistic girl I know who goes for human sacrifice
I walked along the tree-line, slow and steady, pipe in hand
Their slumber upped my pace my lead-pipe slaughter so began
My Lead pipe baby sends me for a whirl
She's my moral compass yeah now all I need's the girl
My Lead pipe baby Raised high above my head
She glistens in the moonlight 'fore she knocks the bastards dead
Oh,
My Lead Pipe Baby, She’s colder than steel
When I hold her in my arms she makes my skin congeal
Whenever we go out, she makes her presence known (she screams)
Homicidal realtor, find a new cerebral home for me
No comments:
Post a Comment