Crawlin' through the ruts and puddles of Gothamburg
With an empty wallet and a broken jaw
It was a bunch of Cuban fucks who beat me to the ground
I swear that I won't rest until
Their wanton souls are circumcised
On the way back home
Jimmy black on the phone
"I found your girl from the red light zone,
She ain't a pretty sigh no more.
I think that you should come here,
And check that things are right.
This chick just might bail out"
Stuff her in the trunk, I say
She ain't no good alive
We can sell her spleen to the rich american
With her shoelace necklace
She's the strangle fruit from the apple tree
But now as strange as the red room
Where lady day sings the blues
Her vocal tract slit open
She says: "Hey, what-the-heck, go break-a-neck"