| I don’t think that we’ll last as burns
|
| But as brigands we can give it a try
|
| Trudging through life’s distraction
|
| Here’s to some mud in your eyes
|
| Meander in a three dimensional world
|
| In a salad bowl of racial genes
|
| She’s knitting my doom with a hook for a hand
|
| And a smirk that’s so pristine
|
| Dirt thick as cake batter
|
| Covering wounds and skin
|
| Mother Mary our common thread
|
| And next of kin
|
| Wake up quick
|
| Wake up sick
|
| Bandit bandit
|
| On easy street
|
| A prude beneath my rapist fur
|
| Sweet as a bag of splendor
|
| Quite at home in bandit country
|
| Always told smug aren’t ya
|
| To strangers I’m adored to ignored
|
| From pity to pure disgust
|
| We lay in pollute this makeshift bed
|
| But we never ever ride the bus
|
| Fierce like a badger
|
| Snapping from a case of rabies
|
| The launching pad to deliver this load
|
| Is all I see
|
| Wake up quick
|
| Wake up sick
|
| Bandit bandit
|
| King of the street
|
| MIA is my partner in crime
|
| She doesn’t feel safe from herself
|
| It’s a beautiful twosome that we male
|
| As we fold another hand we’ve been dealt
|
| Scum of the nation
|
| Scattered and poor
|
| Calls of support are muted
|
| But never premature
|
| Wake up quick
|
| Wake up sick
|
| Bandit bandit
|
| Ain’t easy
|
| Bandit bandit
|
| Someone king me
|
| Bandit bandit
|
| Bandit bandit
|
| Bandit of the street |