Cowboy lawman-found a cell
|
Tore into it-as night fell
|
|
Bankers kids are
|
getting bingo'd
|
Smells like midnight's
|
cooked up a storm in here
|
Leave those loose lips
|
at home or at the
|
rubble that's left
|
when you return
|
|
Have an armed guard posted at your flag
|
Stroll through town with
|
a gun stuffed in your pants
|
|
Bankers kids are
|
getting bingo'd
|
Smells like midnight's
|
cooked up a storm in here
|
Leave those loose lips
|
at home or at the
|
rubble that's left
|
when you return
|
|
Criminal lawman-found a cell
|
Tore into it-made life hell
|
|
Bombs bursting-houses burning
|
Diplomacy's tyrant treats
|
|
-----------------
|
Live From The Russian Compound
|
| The Locust |
