You dream the tinkle of piano keys
will come, will come
to save you from
me, pointing the gun.  

Will come to you in a major chord
with a woke heart
and a great big smile.
You’re all losers.  

Republican leaders have joined my gang,
Once you’re in, you can’t get out
except in a coffin
and, also, I shoot the witnesses.  

You’re all contained
in my reptilian brain.
Stomp and kill is the only thrill
standing on two feet on Blueberry Hill