It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
The sun in the sky
|
and I know it was high noon
|
Hit the town center and enter the saloon
|
Six shooter by my side but I'm down by five
|
And the sign says J Guevara dead or alive
|
Who shot the sheriff?
|
I swear it wasn't me
|
Case taken by mistake identity
|
Now deputies and mounties
|
hunt my black ass for bounty
|
Now I'm jetting to avoid
|
these Boba Fetting fiends that hound me
|
There's a rally for an ally
|
with voice loud like town crier
|
On a steed name of tumbleweed
|
arrives the Pale Rider
|
It's the honkee
|
on the donkey,
|
my compadre
|
Special J
|
J Guevara knows the graveyard,
|
but I know the grave
|
We're guys in our disguises,
|
with our mustaches phoney
|
As we exit stage left
|
we go express like a pony
|
Then we're loose from the noose
|
and we're back in the saddle
|
Lil' Bruto's in the pack
|
of the riff raff and rabble
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
We're lost like Atlantis
|
in this land of the lawless
|
Legendary mercenary
|
with an aim that is flawless
|
In a mess nonetheless
|
I confess like a sinner
|
Special J's got my back
|
while the buzzards got my innards,
|
for dinner
|
The cowards cower,
|
the brave brave the elements
|
I search the scenery for signs of intelligence
|
Is this the fate of the J's,
|
Special and Guevara
|
Take our last breath of air
|
up there on the Sierra
|
Our hopes are dropping,
|
the temperature is rising
|
But look over there,
|
where,
|
there on the horizon
|
A lone horseman
|
approaches behold With gold from stagecoaches
|
and fortunes fortold
|
Now dreams of more clams
|
than found by the seashore
|
Have got J and I digging graves like Igor
|
But when the world divides
|
and men turn on their sons
|
Those with their shovels
|
and those with their guns
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
It's the Good
|
the bad
|
and the Skinnee
|
|
Badges,
|
we don't need no stinking badges
|
|
Badges,
|
we don't need no stinking badges
|
|
Badges,
|
we don't need no stinking badges
|
|
Badges,
|
we don't need no stinking badges
|
|
Badges,
|
we don't need no stinking badges
|
Where justice comes looser
|
than swedish massages
|
Special J blowing up like a stick of dynamite
|
I'm the rootinest tootenist hombre
|
since Samuel Yosemite
|
And I up the ante,
|
you cant beat the J vigilante
|
In the shanty
|
bring inferno like Dante,
|
or disco or towering foes are endangered
|
like Manatees
|
I cause calamaties like Jane
|
|
It's the good
|
the bad
|
and the skinnee
|
|
It's the good
|
the bad
|
and the skinnee
|
|
It's the good
|
the bad
|
and the skinnee
|
|
It's the good
|
the bad
|
and the skinnee
|
|
-----------------
|
The Good, the Bad, the Skinnee
|
| 2 Skinnee J's |
