3 Detectives

Would you blow me baby,
if I had a fourtyfour,
pulled up against your head,
an we where heading for,
a place to hide,
in my chevy coup de ville,
cmon baby tell me,
yea you will!

So we roll out in the country,
an I feel kinda funky,
when you decide to take,
a neckbrakin jump out,
the car you go,
hope you die of loneliness
you goddamn whore...

Next stop gas n booze,
in a fucked up place,
wrecked by the abuse,
sun sets down over the heads,
of three strange silhouettes,
walkin in the haze
thats fillin up this godforsaken place.

The day...

Chorus:
I met three copulating detectives
on their way to Disneyland
I met three copulating detectives
ringin their bells underneath their sheets

Woke up in a sinner's house
four hours of sleep no one round
too much whisky no more statements,
leavin westbound,
for a game of russian roulette,
with an automatic tuned to a minor chord
the reaper watchin every step,
since Lady Luck went overboard.
While three detectives went on to disneyland,
a Dixieband's playin on your final homestand.

© 2003, Ian Kaye