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Right! |
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Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can |
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fucking rotten business this |
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both feet in the Bad-Boot |
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stiff in the crypt, babay, like a rock |
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rock-rock-rock |
|
Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can |
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and he pumped me fulla Trash at least it smelt like Trash |
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and he's got greasy hair wears a suit of Gold |
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but god gave me Sex appeal |
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right right |
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well-well-well-rock |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
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he's comin' to my town |
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he's comin' to my town |
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he's comin' to my town |
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he's comin' to my town rock-rock-rock- |
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r-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ck! |
|
right! |
|
Big-Jesus-Oil-King down in Texas |
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drives great holy tanks of Gold |
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screams from heaven's Graveyard |
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american heads will roll in Texas |
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roll llike daddy's meat |
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roll under those singing stars of Texas |
|
roll under those glorious singing stars of Texas |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
well-well-well-rock |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he's comin' to my town |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he's comin' to my town |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he's comin' to my town |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
|
he's comin' to my town |
|
he drives a Trash-Can |
