Work Text:
Shot in the head,
dropped in the ground,
nearly six feet under
Brought up again by a metal Angel,
fixed and taught and angered
-
Going through the town,
tryin’ to find,
the bastard who had shot me
Been told he ran,
first chance he can,
To that dear old sinful city
-
Can’t ‘member my name, nor my face, but I sure can ‘member his
With those funny words
and stupid coat
and that stupid smug ass grin
Fueled by hate
and fueled by spite,
I’ll chase that devil to town
I’ll track him down,
through every desert,
And drag him down to hell
-
I’m gonna catch that checkered devil
‘least god tear me asunder
‘fore he slits his throat
From my own croak
For I came back up under