| Oh, my God
|
| Oh yeah, oh yeah
|
| Oh yeah, I said oh yeah
|
| «I have no free will,» I sang
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| As I flew about the murder
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| Mrs. Richard Holmes, she screamed
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| Well, you really should have heard her
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| I sang and I laughed, I howled and I wept
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| I panted and I squealed
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| I blew a hole in Mrs. Richard Holmes
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| Who used her husband as a shield
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| He screamed, «You are an evil man»
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| And I paused a while to wonder
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| If I have no free will then how can I
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| Be morally culpable, I wonder?
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| I shot Richard Holmes in the stomach
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| I said, «It felt good to take your life»
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| I’m not sure, but I think he thanked me
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| As he lay down next to his wife
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| «It's nice to be nice,» I replied to him
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| And he gave a little cough
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| «Yeah, it’s nice to be nice» and I neatly aimed
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| And blew his head completely off
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| I’ve lived in this town for thirty years
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| And to no one I am a stranger
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| And I put new bullets in my gun
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| Chamber upon chamber
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| When I turned my gun on the bird-like Mr. Brooks
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| I thought of Saint Francis and his sparrows
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| And as I shot down the youthful Richardson
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| It was Sebastian I thought of and his arrows
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| Oooh mmmm ohhhh
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| Oh my God, oh my God
|
| He shot him in the fu-ing head
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| I said, «I want to introduce myself
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| And I’m glad that all you came»
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| And I lept upon the bar
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| And I shouted out my name
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| Well, Jerry Bellows, he hugged his stool
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| Closed his eyes and shrugged and laughed
|
| And with an ashtray as big as a really bloody big brick
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| I split his skull in half
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| «This hurts me more than it hurts you,» I said
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| And I sat on the bar and cried
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| And for a strange moment, no one moved or spoke
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| They all sat like that for a while
|
| «It's nice to be nice,» I said again
|
| Well it is, and that’s a fact
|
| I smiled at Henry Davenport
|
| I think Henry Davenport smiled back
|
| Well, from the position I was sitting
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| The strangest thing I ever saw
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| The bullet entered through the top of Henry’s chest
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| And blew his bowels out on the floor
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| Well I floated down the counter
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| Showing no remorse
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| I shot a hole in Kathleen Carpenter
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| Recently divorced
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| The remorse I felt, the remorse I had
|
| Clung to everything
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| From the raven’s hair upon my head
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| To the feathers on my wings
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| «Life is grand,» I shouted
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| «But death is just the best!»
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| And I glided through the bodies
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| And killed the fat man Vincent West
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| Who sat quietly in his chair
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| A grown man become a child
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| And I raised the gun up to his head
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| Executioner-style
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| He made no attempt to resist
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| So fat and dull and lazy
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| «Did you know I live in your street?» |
| I cried
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| And he looked at me like I was crazy
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| «Oh,» he said, «I had no idea»
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| He grew as quiet as a mouse
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| And the roar of the pistol when it went off
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| Near blew that roof right off the house
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| Ohhhhh uh huh ugh
|
| Oh my God, oh my God
|
| He shot him in the fu-ing head |