Here he comes, in the dead of the month

His hair falling out, his shoulders hunched

Secure with his Third World expectation

[...] open sewers of degredation

I hate his guts though we we have not spoken

[...] feeling? You must be joking!

The Lambourghini cleaner scowls

Everybody hates the holy mugger

Yeah, the holy mugger



I have to send this blacklist out

and watch these rakes crawl past my house

The silence here has driven me mad

Jihad, jihad, what the fuck was that?

The holy mugger

The holy mugger

The holy mugger



In a week, he's dead, nobody talks

but they never do--it was his own fault

His body's in the gutter, just the way he fell

We glower at the sight and ignore the smell

and it's closing time at the Shiatsu Brothel

and the rail track breaths a rickety rattle

The burglars drive their hearses home

The kids stay in and learn to speak in code



Who dunnit? I don't know. I don't know!



Here he comes, he never died

He calls the street [...]

and a whitewashed cap on a swimming peak

Find his fortunes on his feet

[...?]

I am now a [...?]

I'll accept that this is normal

[...?] it must be formal

The holy mugger

The holy mugger

The holy mugger

The libertine Nazi from hell!