Letra The tattered tale of a housewife - John Carcer
One morning
She walked past the yard
Waving bye
To a working man he said aye
So much joy she has a day free
A glass of scotch or lit cigar
To refresh the morning
To understand what comes till dusk
It's not dawn but a knock on the door
A dark man with a wide figure and yellow teeth
He opens his eyes to see what he desires
A fresh taste of western blood
Rare eyes for such a freak hidden in plain sight
He wept his wrath
Tattered and torn cloth
Blood of a generation stained on oak wood walls
He dragged her through the cornfields
As the sun lays down
Never to be seen again
My pretty gal
She walked past the yard
Waving bye
To a working man he said aye
So much joy she has a day free
A glass of scotch or lit cigar
To refresh the morning
To understand what comes till dusk
It's not dawn but a knock on the door
A dark man with a wide figure and yellow teeth
He opens his eyes to see what he desires
A fresh taste of western blood
Rare eyes for such a freak hidden in plain sight
He wept his wrath
Tattered and torn cloth
Blood of a generation stained on oak wood walls
He dragged her through the cornfields
As the sun lays down
Never to be seen again
My pretty gal
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