darth nater - the honey badger song lyrics
pitch black, switchblade in hand
a boy takes a swig from a brown paper bag
the less he feels his limbs, the more he feels like a man
a stitched badger patch on the back of his jacket
reveals an affection for dubious actions
smoking a cigarette, planning infractions
these streets are your friend
big ben sings to you, lost birds cling to you
these streets are your friend
you know every twist and bend better than the riff raff that runs them
pitch black, raving and mad
a boy drags his feet and delivers his wrath
to each unlucky stranger that crosses his path
he spits in their facеs and curses their backs
he laughs at thеir pain and sn+tches their cash
to stash it away in the springs of his mattress
next to a package of dangerous contraband
and whatever else that his meager means manage
he drunkenly dashes past churches and masses
stumbles across some pretty, blonde lasses
he leers and he grabs and he brashly harasses
smooth as rusty nails and sweet as battery acid
a stunning girl in a black feather cap
lifts her delicate hand, she’s had enough of his cr+p
so she smacks him with style, with grace and with class
which signals her boyfriend to come kick some ass
these streets are your friend
big ben sings to you, lost birds cling to you
these streets are your friend
you know every twist and bend better than the riff raff that runs them
pitch black
plastered and sad
a boy throws a brown paper bag in the trash
he cuts his hand on the shards of smashed glass
and smears it across his chest like a badge
he’s grown tired of wreaking havoc
he thought that this life would be more romantic
he runs from his past as fast as he can
in fact, he runs so fast, he slams into a parked jag
the owner comes out, this guy’s jacked
his biceps have biceps, his traps have traps
his knuckles are white, gripping a pipe made of brass
there’s a feline patch on the back of his jacket
the boy starts to gasp, “hey it’s just a scratch”
but the man is not having none of that
the car’s my dad’s, i just got it waxed
i oughta put a gash in you the same way you slashed my jag
five more lions materialize and advance
this isn’t broadway, there’s no snaps, there’s no dance
just a boy surrounded by half a dozen cats
and everything goes pitch black
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