You shoot all the husbands
I’ll stab all the wives
And I’ll smother them in battery
If they make it out alive
If you leave the evidence
They’ll call the FBI
And they’ll find it in some porno film
Shot in our spare time

We could make a killing
Just you, your gun, and me
Silly boy, don’t stop me now
I think we’re on a spree
I think I get the feeling that
We’re going to disagree
It’s just clay pigeons to me

Is this here your lady friend
Drowning in my smoke?
I like the way you handled her
She didn’t get the joke
Now I’m racing horses
For some idiot out west
And you’ll find it in a Sam Shepherd play
Choking on his breath

We could make a killing now
Just you, my knife, and me
Silly boy, don’t stop me now
I think were on a spree
I think I get the feeling that
We’re just going to disagree
It’s just clay pigeons to me

We should take the bodies and
Drown them in the lake
Or drop them off the quarry bed
To somewhere safe

We could make a killing
Just you, your gun and me
Silly boy don’t stop me now
I think were on a spree
I think I get the feeling that
We’re going to disagree
It’s just clay pigeons to me

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Lyrics gathered by J. Hodge
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