Dead Or Alive
How much I wanted turtle doves
To flutter from the sky,
To show the world I wear kid gloves.
Hang 'em high.
I'd spray the scent of lemon in
The international face,
And show the world I'm feminine.
Leave no trace.
I'd spread some rich molasses
On the buckwheat world of doubt,
Feed ass-milk to the masses.
Take them out.
I'd feed the planet honey,
Or a sugar-coated pill,
Be gentle, tender, friendly, funny.
Shoot to kill.
Here are my lips, and here's my tongue
Still soaked in soapy water –
I have no ho, I have no gung.
No quarter.
I feel your hurt, I feel your pain,
I'm looked upon in error,
When I'm as sweet as sugar-cane.
Terror.
