You’re gonna hang like Benito from the Esso rafters,
Hang like Glover with the skull caved in.
Hang like a cross around my neck.
You’re gonna hang, you’re gonna hang.
What’s the best end you can hope for?
Pity fucks and table scraps.
Subterfuge and detachment,
A bullet in the head and a bullet in the chest.
What’s the best thing you can hope for?
A blindfold and a ball gag.
Burned-out eyes, grotesque beauty,
A nail through the hands and a nail through the feet.