ژانر: Thrash Metal
.
.
Sleeping very soundly
On a Saturday morning
I was dreaming I was Al Capone
There's a rumor going round
Gotta clear outta town
I'm smelling like a dry-fish bone
Here come the Law
Gonna break down the door
Gonna carry me away once more
Never, I never
I never want it any more
Gotta get away from this stone-cold floor
Crazy
Stone-cold crazy, you know
Rainy afternoon
I gotta blow a typhoon
And I'm playing on my slide trombone
Anymore, anymore
Cannot take it anymore
Gotta get away from this stone-cold floor
Crazy
Stone-cold crazy, you know
Hit 'em up
Walking down the street
Shooting people that I meet
With my rubber Tommy water gun
Here come the deputy
He's gonna come and get a me
I gotta get me get up and run
They got the sirens loose
I ran right out of juice
They're gonna put me in a cell
If I can't go to heaven
Will they let me go to hell?
Crazy
Stone-cold crazy, you know