Holy Hack Jack Lyrics

	作曲 : Phillips, Thomas
	He got a sheath made of plastic grabs it over his head forty gallons of petrol
	Gonna burn you all dead.
	A forty-five strapped to his side
	A machete in his hand
	What's the name. What's the game.
	Holy Hack Jack's the man.
	He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He's a sick sick, sick gone man
	He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He's a sick sick, sick gone man
	He hobbles along on a busted knee
	Knife strapped to his thigh.
	Bombs and blades, hand grenades
	Somebody's gonna die
	With his cassocks an' his robes and his leather chaps covered by a plastic mack
	He's sick he's insane Holy Hack Jack's at it again.
	Sick sick, sick sick
	Chorus
	Clapped out buggy down darkened streets likes to kill whoever he meets
	He's sick he's insane Holy Hack Jack's at it again.
	Sick sick, sick sick
	He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He's a sick sick, sick gone man
	He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He's a sick sick, sick gone man
	Sick sick, sick sick

	zuo qu : Phillips, Thomas
	He got a sheath made of plastic grabs it over his head forty gallons of petrol
	Gonna burn you all dead.
	A fortyfive strapped to his side
	A machete in his hand
	What' s the name. What' s the game.
	Holy Hack Jack' s the man.
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	He hobbles along on a busted knee
	Knife strapped to his thigh.
	Bombs and blades, hand grenades
	Somebody' s gonna die
	With his cassocks an' his robes and his leather chaps covered by a plastic mack
	He' s sick he' s insane Holy Hack Jack' s at it again.
	Sick sick, sick sick
	Chorus
	Clapped out buggy down darkened streets likes to kill whoever he meets
	He' s sick he' s insane Holy Hack Jack' s at it again.
	Sick sick, sick sick
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	Sick sick, sick sick

	zuò qǔ : Phillips, Thomas
	He got a sheath made of plastic grabs it over his head forty gallons of petrol
	Gonna burn you all dead.
	A fortyfive strapped to his side
	A machete in his hand
	What' s the name. What' s the game.
	Holy Hack Jack' s the man.
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	He hobbles along on a busted knee
	Knife strapped to his thigh.
	Bombs and blades, hand grenades
	Somebody' s gonna die
	With his cassocks an' his robes and his leather chaps covered by a plastic mack
	He' s sick he' s insane Holy Hack Jack' s at it again.
	Sick sick, sick sick
	Chorus
	Clapped out buggy down darkened streets likes to kill whoever he meets
	He' s sick he' s insane Holy Hack Jack' s at it again.
	Sick sick, sick sick
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone mother
	He' s a sick sick, sick gone man
	Sick sick, sick sick

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