The sun is out, shades are on,
But the gig still can't be found.
As we gaze out of the window,
See fields and barns float up.
A psycho in a beat up Chevy,
Got us in his evil eye.
Hit the deck, hit the deck.
The gun I fear, not the redneck.
He tried to run us off the road,
'cause we broke his law.
It's hard to say what gun he had,
I was lying on the floor.
Terror reigned, no need to panic,
Whizz Pig's at the wheel !
Stops the van in front of him,
Goes and strikes a deal.
.. I'm just a poor boy, a long way from home.
Don't wanna' die here, I'm all alone.
If I ever get out of this place, get out of this jam.
Go home and die on the sanctuary of Birmingham.
This crazy with a baseball cap,
Has been working in a foreign land.
Learned to live in the jungle,
Learned to kill with his bare hands.
Bringing his skills back to civilisation,
Running to the police.
Mister I abhor your kind ..
An' I ain't no goddam freak !
Lyrics submitted by horrorpunker
"Hit the Deck" as written by Colin Blyth Colin Abrahall
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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