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Dead Milkmen Soul Rotation Here Comes Mr X Here he comes, he's coming down the street With his drunken wife and his kids that he beats He's gonna tell you that life is hard Then he'll dump his trash in your back yard You'll here lots of talk about the racially pure When Mr. X moves in next door Just take a walk on the ignorant side And you'll get to see what goes on in his mind Just take a walk on the ignorant side And you'll get to see through his eyes There he goes, now he's on the lawn With his Sans-a-Belt pants and Hush Puppies on The sky is blue and the bees are buzzin' He must be the product of two first cousins He's got a rifle and a low I.Q. He doesn't close his mouth when he chews his food Oh, please, dear God, strike him dead Aim a lightning bolt at his head Oh, please, Reverend Sun Yung Moon, Send someone to kill him soon Oh, Mohammed, Prophet of Allah, Run him over with his own Impala Oh, please, kill him, Shirley MacLaine Take a pipe and bash in his brain Here he comes, driving 'round the block Sticking pamphlets in your mailbox Inviting your kids to Aryan Youth Camp moving his ammo when his basement gets damp Training his dog to attack your cat Hitting your mower with a baseball bat Here he comes into your life With about as much charm as a Bowie knife He'll swim in your pool when you're not home And steal your tools and your garden gnome Here he comes, coming down the street With his drunken wife and his kids that be beats --------------------------------------------------- |
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