HANGMAN - Young Fathers

I’m almost there.

I’m almost there, but not quite

Travelling through the bayou, feel the eeriness at sunset

My senses on high alert, so I say, «Hello!

Who’s there?»

Nothing

Like a whistle in the wind as I move on forward

I hear the leaves rustling leaves rustling

In a state of grace words I shouldn’t have said are all forgiven

All the days of bad forgotten

But still, to me, revenge is a dish best served cold

Like ice cold with an ice pick and a blindfold

I’m going, going, gone.

I said, «I'm going, going, gone»

Time to meet your maker.

Time to meet your maker

I’m prowling, growling, howling

Hangman

A bullet a piece for the two of you

(Hey)

For you

Low deep nasty

You chopping me down like the Amazon

No getting past me

Two feet in the air

You wouldn’t last a marathon

Racing with the panther

The maximum price-ah

Curator of the faith-ah

I’m never too late-ah

Don’t shoot the messenger

Shoot the messenger’s mother

Fffffucker

Hangman

A bullet a piece for the two of you

(Motherfucker)

For you

(Fatherfucker)

Hangman

A bullet a piece for the two of you

For you

Hangman

A bullet a piece for the two of you

For you

Hangman

A bullet a piece for the two of you

For you