Break-A-Neck

Crawlin´ through the ruts and puddles of Gothamburg

With an empty wallet and a broken jaw

It was a bunch of Cuban fucks who beat me to the ground

I swear that I won´t rest until

Their wanton souls are circumcised

On the way back home

Jimmy black on the phone

"I found your girl from the red light zone,

She ain´t a pretty sigh no more.

I think that you should come here,

And check that things are right.

This chick just might bail out"

Stuff her in the trunk, I say

She ain´t no good alive

We can sell her spleen to the rich american

With her shoelace necklace

She´s the strangle fruit from the apple tree

But now as strange as the red room

Where lady day sings the blues

Her vocal tract slit open

She says: "Hey, what-the-heck, go break-a-neck"