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All My Life To Kill - text

Out of Hell’s Half Acre from a downtown drunk tank,
It’s a white knuckle ride on the back of a junk train.
Got a jacked-up face, buncha blood in my spit can.
Moonshine whiskey flowing backwards through my jug’ vein.

Come on. Come on December
Because I got all my life to kill.

If it bleeds, it leads on the eleven o’clock
So I hopped me a ride with the Pennsyltucky Pollock.
My junco partner popped a bottle o’ pills.
You can’t get no action if your standin’ still.

Come on. Come on December
Because I got all my life to kill.

From the day I was born til the day I became a man
Lord lord lord, I’m a lucky Leo on the lam.
Hey hey hey, I’m a poor boy bound to die.
Ain’t no wonder why.

Concrete Christ in an alabaster bathtub!
They’re a draggin’ that crooked creek bed full of bad blood.
Climb to the top of a whole hill of headbones.
The Rust Belt buckles at the crack of my shotgun.

Come on. Come on December
Because I got all my life to kill.

Bloodhounds huffin’ Lucky Tiger in my flattop
I’m hanging upside down from a switchyard maildrop.
Dirt daubers buzzin’, bout to lose my mind.
Now my goatboots are wrapped around a telephone line.

Come on. Come on December
Because I got all my life to kill.

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