Tormen

tormen, he was a snake-oil salesman
 took a lesion, a stake and
 three fucking greasy henchman
 and if on one friendless night
 he were to call you a brethren
 i would run my brother
 gun my brother till your sweat it is relentless
 he was welld
 in witnesses and vintage carbines
 he drove a long black hearse with a harlot
 and a chaffeur
 and he'd show me a good time
 on a sunday night
 but i'd have to clean up the mess
 and i had to learn how to fight
 well, i saw a lot that night
 i saw a lot that night
 and i fought for my life
 with a glass-fashioned knife
 when he speaks of blood
 it's your vital not your kin
 oh much is slit over misintention
 let me speak to you of my intention
 I'm a chat intervention
 let me speak to you of attention
 i take my attention
 hammer it to a nickel
 in the glass house
 the gutter
 the gutter
 the gutter
 the gutter
 tormen
 tormen
 i said tormen
 he was a cannibal
 tormen and his brazen gang
 and a torch in hand
 and a vernacular of pain
 with a carboy and
 a half full demijohn
 well he took me by the nape
 (i had my blue leather on)
 and i said
 "no, i am that mercy mercenary!"