Boomslang in a cold front
Seeking shelter from confusion
I feel so out of place
Just like a sleight of hand illusion
The common green is open
Yet I'm feeling f*cking closed into
A pocket of my own design
As wide as I can swing
So hit the grindstone, son
Gonna make them shiver
Make their widows drag the river
Desperate times seek desperate measures
Break out all them war-time feathers
I'm a desperate man from a tribe called Boomslang
Boomslang bam-bam-BOOM
Boomslang suffocating
On a doctrine of delusion
You're waving social contracts
In my face as if you use them
But I didn't make my mark
On any round-robin or charter
I ceded nothing to you, man
And neither did my fathers
So hit the grindstone, son
Gonna make them shiver
Make their widows drag the river
Desperate times seek desperate measures
Break out all them war-time feathers
I'm a desperate man from a tribe called Boomslang
Boomslang bam-bam-BOOM
And I don't feel that articulate today
You're talking to me but I don't know what to say
I've never felt like such a specimen
A stranger in my own homeland
You f*ck with me and try to tame me
And I'll only run away
You cut the tongue out of my mouth
To keep the scent of your fear safe
You f*ck with me
And I'll haunt the sockets of your skull beyond the grave
So hit the grindstone, son
Gonna make them shiver
Make their widows drag the river
Desperate times seek desperate measures
Break out all them war-time feathers
I'm a desperate man from a tribe called Boomslang
Boomslang bam-bam-BOOM