Chop, Chop, Chop

(альбом: Raise Your Fist And Yell - 1987)

Chop, Chop, Chop
Some people call me the creeper
Cause they don't know my name or face
I got 'em running in circles
Because a homicidal genius never leaves a trace

I'm a lonely hunter
City full of game
Walking in the neon lights

Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's a symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop

Some people call me the Ripper
Stole my modus operandi from the movie screen
She's just a celluloid stripper
Just another bloody player in my splatter-filled dream

Women on the street
Want money when we meet
I take 'em for a little ride

Chop, chop, chop, I'm an engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's a symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop

She was standing on the corner
With her bright red lips
Her face was so white and pale
So pale

She had a black leather skirt
That was tight to her hips
And an anklet with a name
It spelled M-A-R-Y
Gail

Gail...