Songwriter, Poet, Man of Mystery
info@FrankSmithSongs.com
She's laying there with a hole in her head
Just lying there with a hole in her head
She didn't want him, so he wanted her dead
It cost him two hundred bucks and a dime...
Ain't got no problems with violence and pain
They go away like a roach down the drain
I know a man can loose his head, win the war
Mother nature is a sick little whore
She's laying there with a hole in her head
Just lying there with a hole in her head
She didn't want him, so he wanted her dead
It cost him two hundred bucks and a dime...
It ain't your drinkin', it's your driving too much
You take up smokin' so you don't last too long
You come from prisons and asylums and such
Your flesh is weak and the hatred is strong
Assault rifle under a heavy coat
Your mother tries to read your suicide note
You get shot down, then forget what you wrote
Something about poverty and your wretched soul
Just lying there with a hole in her head
She's lying there with a hole in her head
She didn't want him, so he wanted her dead
It cost him two hundred bucks and a dime...
Just another day in the game, the mean city
Just another day in the game, she's so pretty
Just another day in the game, says Walter Middy
Just another day in the game..
It ain't your drivin', it's you're drinkin' too much
You take up smokin' so you won't last too long
You come from prisons and asylums and such
The flesh is weak and the hatred is strong
Assault rifle under a heavy coat
Your mother cries to read your suicide note
You get shot down, they forget what you wrote
Something about poverty and your poor, wretched soul
She's laying there with a hole in her head
Just lying there with a hole in her head
She didn't want him, so he wanted her dead
It cost him two hundred bucks and a dime...