I'll shoot you dead
For the father
Of the coal miner's daughter

Beneath the icicle tusk
You and me among the flattering dusk


In my haste i draw my weapon
Designing your final lesson
As you recede to the floor

All is silent but the fluttering door

Twenty-five grand on the table

Of the high wall street stable
I'm not responsible for
The reputation of the

Neighborhood !@^%

But i'm a keyhole peeker

And you're my surveilance keeper
And though my memory rusts
I will always see the icicle tusk


And i must admit
That it gets lonesome on my shelf

This much i can tell
This much i can tell