Artist: the gun club
Song: bad indian
You blew me out
South and Texas too
I made love to California
To get away from you
New York city made you a
Hungry girl
You should have catch me
In the end of the world
I don't believe you
What are you doing down here?
You need something in a shoe
Or are you just a Bad Indian?
Bad Indians
They love the land they hate
Eat your flesh and then forget the taste
Some describe, that primal drive
To consume what's theirs
And seek what's mine
I don't believe them
And I don't believe you
I suspect everything you do
'Cause you are like a Bad Indian
Bad Indian
Do your war dance
Now you're stripped
By the things you do
Your ass is glass
And I can see through you
Go find somebody
Who ain't been so hard
Give me an overdose of the drug
That you are
You are like a ghost
With crazy hands and mouth
A necklace made of eyeballs
You are just a Bad Indian
Bad Indian, Bad Indian, Bad Indian
