Pain in the Brain

Criticism always came
in a cartridge
reigning in
held to the saddle
We giddied up and we
cracked on that cracker whip
How many times have those people
told me, that the love of a child
ripped my soul in twain
now I'm hanging out
for that metal tinge
jimmy boy's bourbon
tastes ever so fucken' sweet.
Get that jimmy on his medication again
we gotta pop these cunts before time
runs out and falls on back again.
Training it to Sydney
but I'm hitched up and no cunt's
got the macho to steal my drink.