alternative
rock
songwriter
boston
blues
dark
industrial
horror
evil
macabre
fuzz
tom waits
growl
Lyrics
Shortsleeve Mike had a beautiful face
He was a chiseled out David with a backbrace
And all the ladies came crawling his way
He was a tomcat astray, until one day
Mike’s charm got the best of him, he had his girls and left them
He promised them the world and its gold, and it always sold
By dawn he hit he road
His compass always said South, Southwest
Mike was in Yuma when he got what he had coming
It was karma in a worn out Pontiac that ended his running
Sweet little Anaba always chewing her tongue
Bought her very first gun when he run
And the metal on his neck was the last thing Mike felt
Before he was all over the wall in that crummy motel
And sweet little Anaba took off her gloves, and she got in the car
And headed South, Southwest