Eastwood

The gig is up she pounds on the front of the door I got nothing to give to the girl anymore You want my records the TV the Spaghetti pot The Pills they plot bang bang my shirt like a smock Hallucinate Hallucinate I watch westerns with a red herring close to my heart I'd watch them less but I wait for them callus remarks I'll go to Italy to meet you in a desert in Spain You call it fantasy I call it a trip in my brain Hallucinate Hallucinate With blinders on my head I'm coming out Spaghetti westerns she calls me out on the street With cigar and a smoking gun she stands over me A fatal blow through my poncho my blood level low Oh no two tickets to the gun show Hallucinate Hallucinate With blinders on my head I'm coming out