Whose woods are deese, I think I know.
He’s got another place in the Village, though;
He’ll nevah see me stopping heah,
Cause I’m gonna make him disappeah.
My cab drivah must think it queer . . and by queer I mean strange. So don’t go bustin’ my balls, alright?
My cab drivah must think it queer,
That I tell him to leave the meter running and wait right heah.
Between da woods and some mook’s rancher,
In the fucking dark. Shit . . it’s really dark out heah in the country . . .
He honks his horn and I tell him if he tries that again, I’ll bust his fucking head wide open.
He asks if there is some mistake.
The only other sound is him shitting his pants when I pull out my .45 and tell him to shut the fuck up.
The wind makes me feel like I could piss my pants, and the snow . . the forecast said it was supposed to be cleah . . that piece of shit weatha man!
I gotta admit, the woods are fucking beautaful even if da snow is deep,
But I got promises ta keep.
And a rat to put ta sleep.
And a Red-eye to Tampa to catch so’s I can lay low until this blows ovah.