When the waitress walked by - She must've caught his eyenAnd at that moment he was minenA little slight of hand and I had poisoned his bowl of neopolitannWhat else can I say Man - Enjoy your ice creamnnMurder is such an ugly word - Then use another if you so prefernMe - I like to call it art and art is it’s own rewardnJust ask Burt Ward - Years of living in the shadow of The BatnBut we'll come back to thatnRight now let's roll this little memo out to the big bossnFor the next time you think I'm going softnSend some punk to try knock me offnHere's a reminder - You fucking hind-grinder - With a cherry on topnnThat I never lost a stepnMessage to MarcelnnIn my parapsychology - The ghosts they only visit menMother – Its no bothernThere's a demon on this shoulder and an angel upon the othernThe tie always goes to the runner - Ten quatlooms on the newcomernnThey always seem to remember that the art is its own rewardnJust ask Burt WardnTell me he never fucking felt like capping anybodynHalf a lifetime spent living in the shadow of The BatnLike that has got to take its toll on you - Take control of younUntil one day all you have left to shownIs the only thing for sure that you have ever knownnThe art of an obedient carefully connected roguennI never lost a stepnMessage to MarcelnAnd I never rubbed the batnMessage to MarcelnnEn garden
Neopolitan
Tin Foil Phoenix
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