I am an outcast I'm a nomad without home I am an outlaw I'm disowned And I am no man's son The first man I killed was the earl's right-hand man When he came to take her away I ran his own sword straight through his throat

Oh, shooter My hands up (yeah) They want me with my hands up But no, I can't do it I think they want me to surrender My hands up, my hands up (yeah) They want me with my hands up (yeah) (Shooter, my hands up, my hands up, they want me to surrender) Yea,

Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Weird and Gilly And the spiders from Mars. He played it left hand But made it too far Became the special man, then we were Ziggy's band Now Ziggy really sang, screwed up eyes and screwed down hairdo Like some cat

I'm on my way back home Take the hand Guide the way Find the truth Take your heart into your hand To tempt the fool into the mine Let loose the snake with antidote

Keep moving your heels on the floor Let the bartender pour you up another round Tip the cover band, find another hand To dance and call him your rebound Another late night love, another last call crush With the neon shining down Girl, this time around,

She wit' it, she wit' it Lethal weapon, she be pussy poppin' How she do that with no hands? Come through, throw her the bands In the air, like is you 'bout that action with me? Turn the cameras on then she turn to an actress for me Learned some new

And all I gotta do Hey, me or you Oh, all I want to know Who'd I do this for With just a touch of my burning hand Prime directive, exterminate And your face just drops in a pile of flesh Till it pumps in death

I've got a little black book with my poems in Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in When I'm a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in I got elastic bands keepin' my shoes on Got those swollen-hand blues I got thirteen channels of shit on the

There's three sides to every story Where do we go from here? The future looks so unclear Through the dark and suspicious mind We played too long into losing game With no hand to hand Yours, mine and the whole darn truth Three sides to every story Yours,

It's too bad it's too bad It's too bad we had no time to rewind Let's walk, let's talk Too late, so wrong, so long It's too late, so wrong, so long Father's hands are lined with dirt From long days in the field Mother's hands are serving meals