“You’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet.”
Robert’s got a quick hand
He’ll look around the room
He won’t tell you his plan
He’s got a rolled cigarette hanging out of his mouth
He’s a cowboy kid
He found a six-shooter gun
In his dad’s closet hidden in a box of fun things, I don’t know what
But he’s coming for you, yeah he’s coming for you
“All the other kids with your pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the yoour pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet”
Daddy works a long day
He’ll be coming home late, Yeah he’s coming home late
And he’s bringing me a surprise,
Cause dinner’s in the kitchen and it’s packed in ice
I’ve waited for a long time
Yeah the slight of my hand is now the pull of a trigger
I reason with my cigarette
And say your hair’s on fire, you must of lost your wit, yeah
Now playing… Gypsy.
