I find another body at my feet
And, damn it, it’s my bullet in his head.
Now that this place is lousy with the heat
I’ve come to wish this mug was not so dead.
This stiff will soon begin to decompose,
Festering quite rankly in my trunk,
And any cop who’s got a working nose
Will come to see what’s making such a funk.
Should he sleep with the fishes? Ah, no dice;
That’s where the flatfoots always check at first.
Maybe I should think before I ice;
This predicament has got to be the worst.
That’s it! I’m giving up! I’ve had enough!
Compared to this, the big house ain’t so tough.