There’s some serious shit going down.
You need to keep your mind as clear
as a dolphin’s rear end
Learn to look over your shoulder
without moving your noggin an inch
and tune your lugs so tight
they can hear a pin before it drops
If you think you got a mate
his real name’s probably Judas
Be ready to do what’s required –
I got the rope, you find the tree
There’s some heavy crap in the air.
You need to peel your own eyeballs
with a switchblade
Trust your instincts like brothers
Cut out the middlemen
of reflection and doubt
Rationalisation is vastly-overrated –
nothing wrong with animal cunning –
whoever calls it low ought to
get down in the dirt with me
and shoot their own high horse
There’s some mega-sized turds on the doorstep.
You need to shovel them off
You hear me?
Stare in the devil’s own orbs
Eye contact’s the name of this game
and if you lose you snooze
bigtime in the land of the bones
Don’t forget to drop my name
but when they stoop to pick it up
it’s a knee to the snout, then a nutting
Go on with you, make your old dad proud.