Tytuł: Whiskeyclone, Hotel City 1997

• Wykonawca: Beck
• Wyświetleń: 268

I got a job making money for the man
  throwing chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can
  puke green uniform on my back
  I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
  I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
  running through the mini mall in my underwear
  I got lost downtown couldn't find a ride home
  sun went down I got frozen to the bone
  'til a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
  as I took a little nap the cops picked up us both
  I tried to explain I was only trying to get warm
  I knew I never ever should have burnt my uniform
  He said too bad. You want to bite the bullet hard son?
  I didn't have no teeth so I stole his gun
  and I crawled out the window with my shadow on a spoon
  dancing on the roof, shooting holes in the moon
  get busy, get busy, you know it
  
  I ain't going to work for no soul-sucking jerk
  I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
  --repeat--
  
  Standing right here with a beer in my hand
  and my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
  fourteen days I've been sleeping in the barn
  better I get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
  whistling dixie with the dixie cup filled
  with the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chill
  big fat fingers pointing into my face
  telling me to get busy cleaning up this place
  I got bent like a wet cigarette
  and she's coming after me with a butterfly net
  riding on the bloodhound ringing the bell
  black cat wrapped in the road map to hell
  pencil on my leg and I'm trying not to beg
  taking turns baking worms with the bacon and eggs
  well they got me in a bird cage flapping my jaw
  like a pretzel in the stars just waiting to fall
  so give me what I got to get so I can go
  cause I ain't washing dishes in the ditch no mo(re)
  
  I ain't going to work for no soul-sucking jerk
  I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack