Mints

Old gold chains on a plaster bust Of Beethoven's 8th over Gatling guns I walk this way just to warn the women That I snore when I fuck and my horns are hidden Just ignore the rip and let us finickers top And play it off like it's awesome 'cause this isn't your yacht

The different have docked and brought their enemies bread And an orphan just did laundry all in twenties and tens Pledging a pimp, but I swear my allegiance To every dog-leg left with his tail in between 'em

The trailers are leaden, so a forest of freaks That carry broadswords, knives, and a portrait of me So in order to breathe I need a couple of breaks And in order to get those I need to cover your face

There's the mother of mange with a wave to deploy This is Johnny Red Rotten doing skate and destroy Oliver twisting every whisker he has This is chopper running laps around your livery cab

In some slippers he grabbed when he get dipped in the dollop And blew his muffler when discovered he was missing his wallet In the still of a silent he get dumped from a muse He would never see again unless you send him for food

In the menacing moon upon a horrible night And the fully loaded bullies that just borrowed your bike Tomorrow is tight and packed with stooges and fools And the gophers are now chauffeuring their losers to schools

To move is removed, all the rooms are a wreck And the ships that we were passing are now gasping for breath Out of respect I'll spot you five and a half If you teased it with the Jesus that's inviting you back

R-R-Ready on the left with the rowboats He deadly as what's left to the ozone By the time he get the rest of the old jokes They'll probably reinvent how to stones throw

My posse getting big 'cause we eat wrong My hobby's making mints out of meatballs I'll probably spend my wish on a sheep dog And probably let my crib turn to peat moss