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