Ex-cop

An entourage of personal demons

All packing serious heat

Nickel-plated desert eagles

And I'm feeling weak

Walk up to you and strip you where you stand trembling

Walk up and stick a gun in your face

Hand over all the fuckin' guns

Hand over the drugs, you fuck

Fired up the old acetylene torch

Lit a cigarette and went to work

Completely self-absorbed

Don't give a fuck about

Who or what you know

Just care about the ammo

And the three keys of coke