Coming
home late at night
I *** my guitar and I play a few chords
Then suddenly I hear a noise from behind
Then I turn around and I look at a man with a knife in his hand
And a grin on his face and he tells me that he'll kill me
In time it takes to drink a glass of milk
I scream and scream I scream for help
But the neighbourhood is still fast asleep
Running round the tables and chairs I try to
catch his eyes to ask him why he's doing this
I talk of agreeable things to make him cool down I
talk of cigarettes and drinks and a trip to the south
I talk of Kennedy and King and Trotsky and Gus But I
don't seem to find the words to make him drop the knife
I
scream and scream I scream for help But
the neighbourhood is still fast asleep
I've had enough
I'm about to give in He raises the knife and suddenly he slips
Then bangs his head against the floor
There's a pool of blood I assume that he's
dead I get him into my car and off we go to the
nearest park And minutes later he's six foot down
He's six foot down He's six foot down
I said six foot down He's six foot down