Hard-ons I'm Bringing You Death
He's got a wild streak in him
He's got a wild head of hair
He's like Son of Sam dished out
And a snake up the hill
He's the coldest flame
He's got the sharpest edge
And in his mind's eye he says
I cherish the dead
Come on mother, come on father
You can take the train on Tuesday...
He's the wild prince
He's the wild Jame's Dean
He's got a wild priest card collection
And a belly full of burn
He smokes wild cigarettes
And checks shade blade mirror head
Well no two bears look the same
