Down Come the Mickey Songtext

von Cop Shoot Cop

It's a particular taste in the mouth
Difficult to describe.
I checked the secretaries on the subway, blank pages with paperpunch eyes.
And the black boys fresh out of prison are saying it's easy on the inside, it's just tough on parole.
Hey man, we don't need your money, yeah, we're just checking your pockets for holes.
And the night crawls by with every cigarette drag
All shallow and twisted like a birthscream
No flash of light, no spark of life, no goddamn tunnel, just a waterblog And a jet of steam.

Down come the Mickey, Down come the Mickey, one more time, Down come the Mickey.

My friends are bad Bukowski
And eh I'm a bad joke, that's repeated at parties
Don't like it stone, unless it's an epitaph
These things are worth one laugh

Down come the Mickey, Down come the Mickey, one more time, Down come the Mickey.

A hit from behind. Hit from behind.

And this one, is for the one's that got it better than I got.
And this one, is for the one's that got it worse.
And this one's for the one's that took it hard, with a cheap shot.
This one's for him what wrote this verse.

Down come the Mickey, Down come the Mickey, one more time, Down come the Mickey.