Yeah

I'm a strapped-in loner, I was heedin' that shame

You never shake my hand, you never know my name

A crack house cooling, just chewin' the floor

I past out cold and I go look for some more

I got all kinds of devices I'm gonna detonate

Got a .45 magazine, rags of gasoline

Phone booth, gold tooth, a pigeon wing

Got bazookas, hand grenades

Firebomb weddings, spray down parades

I used to work in an office in the outskirts of town

Routine, the grindstone grinding me down

So I picked up a filing cabinet and threw it at my boss

And then I took him outside and hung him on a cross

Then I kept walking on down the road

Oh yeah

Well fourteen uzis later and a bottle of rum

A cigarette lighter and a live chicken

Got in all kinds of mischief

Some kinds I won't tell

I did all kinds of things

Well I went into the peekaboo hut

To watch the lady have sex with a mutt

And then, uh, then I, then I, I had

A demolition derby with some shopping carts

And I killed every pop star in the top-twenty charts

I like to hijack people

I like to jump through movie screens at the best parts

I was reading that hardcore magazine

"101 Erotic Things To Do With Bologna"

Then I went home and I painted the TV screen

On the old black and white TV

And I painted a picture on it

And I watched it all night long

I ate a live dog and I buried his bones

Then I carved out a tombstone

I got shell-casings in the freezer

A money belt in the drawer

I stole some blank checks

And I used them down at the comic book store

I read a lot of comic books