The Hijack

Filled with smoke, a room without doors

Turned the lights low, fit for motherfuckers and whores

He says

I gotta little job in mind for you son

This ain't a joke

You move or you're dead

So put all your hands

Up to your motherfuckin' heads

And scream

This is a hijack

Scream

This is the hijack

Says he dictates the breaks

With a red right hand full of paper mistakes

He says

Don't even think about tryin' to escape

So he told the band to play

And took up a seat in front of the stage

All the dancing girls stopped

And stared

'what's he carrying under there?'

He orders a whiskey, lights a cigar

Wipes the thick red blood from his hands like a bath

Until the doorman calls him sir when he walks out the room

The whole place calls him sir, when he walks out the room