Guts - John Cale

Guts - John Cale
The bugger in the short sleeves f**ked my wife
Did it quick and split
Back home fresh as a daisy to Maisy
Oh Maisy
And the twelve-bore it stood in the corner
Quite operatic in its self disgust
It blew him all over the living room floor
Like parrot sh*t parrot spit
Parrot sh*t was shot
Now suppose it was someone familiar
Someone we all would know
Embarrassing denouement ne c'est pas
Familiar hyperbole
And there would go the secret plot
The piss had missed the hole in the pot
Like that ancient teenage dream
From soul to poison soul to poison soul
Guts guts got no guts
And stitches don't help at all
Guts guts got no guts
Holes in the body holes in the legs
Holes in the forehead holes in the head
Holes in the body holes in the legs
There should never be holes at all
There should never be holes at all
So kill all you want or more
Make sure do it right
Dead is dead and door nails forget
And then you'll notice
How the waster and the wasted
Get to look like one another
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end
In the end in the end