| You wait for death to happen
|
| You loot the bloody wrecks
|
| you con the elderly feeblos up out they pension checks
|
| Up out they penchant checks
|
| You kick em when they down
|
| You tell them God is coming
|
| You work the lowly souls
|
| Eight-hundred numbers running
|
| You sell what you repossess
|
| You clean them out they nest
|
| You wait for them to try to rest
|
| Then yank it out they chest
|
| You sell them medicine
|
| You make them think they need
|
| You come around the flowers
|
| But you’s a dirty weed
|
| Like serpents and snakes
|
| They rattle and bite
|
| Whatever it takes
|
| They get what they like
|
| Always they fake
|
| And know it ain’t right
|
| Your money, they make it
|
| Then gone in the night
|
| And make no mistake
|
| They do got a heart
|
| It’s blacker than coal
|
| And hard as a rock
|
| Don’t quiver or shake
|
| When they take and part
|
| And breaking apart
|
| Who swim with the sharks
|
| Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
|
| Pick us, your wretchedly sick and deranged
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| Pick at the heart, pick at the soul
|
| Pick em and drag em down into your hole
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| You cut the fingers off
|
| If there’s a ring still on em
|
| Even if they come in cursed
|
| You still want em
|
| You promised big things
|
| Is headed for next year
|
| But then you disappear
|
| As soon as the checks clear
|
| You lash out at the poor
|
| And tell em to give you more
|
| Sell everything off for the church
|
| Sleep on the floor
|
| You point the juiciest necks
|
| Out to all the vampires
|
| But lurking in the dark
|
| You might get bit by spiders
|
| Lizards and bugs
|
| Flies and mosquitoes
|
| Hookers with drugs
|
| And dirty ass needles
|
| Alleyway cats
|
| Possums and rats
|
| Killers with gats
|
| Attacking with bats
|
| They scums, bums
|
| As anything comes and goes
|
| They pimps
|
| With tons of hoes
|
| Dirty like all of those
|
| I suppose
|
| Cuz wicked’s the way that they chose
|
| Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
|
| Pick us, your wretchedly sick and deranged
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| Pick at the heart, pick at the soul
|
| Pick em and drag em down into your hole
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| Go away doc
|
| Leave him alone
|
| When will he die?
|
| I’ll be at home
|
| Who gets his car?
|
| Who gets the crib?
|
| Those are his pills?
|
| I’m popping the lid
|
| I give him a week
|
| What do I get?
|
| Put me in his will
|
| He’s moving again
|
| Sign it like him
|
| Cut off that beep
|
| There go his morphine
|
| That shit is sweet
|
| Give me a hit
|
| The preacher called
|
| He’s trying to get paid
|
| Who’s feeding his dog?
|
| Fuck that dog
|
| It’s beeping again
|
| Ohh, that morphine’s kicking in
|
| What about his money
|
| He wants the church to have it
|
| How long till he dies
|
| Let’s check his wallet
|
| Let’s pull the plug
|
| Do you think he can hear?
|
| He’s fucking dying
|
| He doesn’t care
|
| Like serpents and snakes
|
| They rattle and bite
|
| Whatever it takes
|
| They get what they like
|
| And they gonna hide
|
| And they gonna run
|
| But they’re gonna suffer
|
| Some Carnival fun
|
| And make no mistake
|
| They do got a heart
|
| It’s blacker than coal
|
| And hard as a rock
|
| They gonna visit
|
| The Carnival grounds
|
| And they gonna perish
|
| We promise you now
|
| Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
|
| Pick us, your wretchedly sick and deranged
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| Pick at the heart, pick at the soul
|
| Pick em and drag em down into your hole
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
|
| Pick us, your wretchedly sick and deranged
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture
|
| Pick at the heart, pick at the soul
|
| Pick em and drag em down into your hole
|
| Cuz you’s a vulture
|
| A wicked vulture |