Tormen - Slim Twig

Tormen, he was a snake-oil salesman

Took a lesion, a stake and

Three fucking greasy henchman

And if on one friendless night

He were to call you a brethren

I would run my brother

Gun my brother till your sweat it is relentless

He was well versed

In witnesses and vintage carbines

He drove a long black hearse with a harlot

And a chaffeur

And he’d show me a good time

On a sunday night

But i’d have to clean up the mess

And i had to learn how to fight

Well, i saw a lot that night

I saw a lot that night

And i fought for my life

With a glass-fashioned knife

When he speaks of blood

It’s your vital not your kin

Oh much is slit over misintention

Let me speak to you of my intention

I’m a chat intervention

Let me speak to you of attention

I take my attention

Hammer it to a nickel

In the glass house

The gutter

The gutter

The gutter

The gutter

Tormen

Tormen

I said tormen

He was a cannibal

Tormen and his brazen gang

And a torch in hand

And a vernacular of pain

With a carboy and

A half full demijohn

Well he took me by the nape

(I had my blue leather on)

And i said

«No, i am that mercy mercenary!»