She'll be in for a show.
Rotary phones are hung to dry
She'll be in for a show.
Walking down the street and she's
Whistling dixie!

They say there may be an afterlife
We'll goddamnit we're about to find out.
One more time make headlights a distant kiss.
They should name a machete after you.
One less chapter to forget about.
They should name a machete after you.
Thrilla! thrilla!

Well these flowers we're for you
Now they belong to the bottom of the river
That i'm gonna throw myself into.

[fold you in, close you up, ship you out]

We're locked, cocked, and ready.. to rock.

Can we say a careless knife act?!