The Worm

belly up to the bar and give me shot of your best stuff

cuz this dust in my throat is turning to brick

make it some of that mexican mojo

that you’ve got hidden there down below

I can hear him callin

I can hear him beg

drink me like the water from this desert land

I don’t need no chaser

I don’t need no lime

just tip the glass and let that motherfucker fly

glass in one hand flesh in the other

queen of the night on the day of the dead

let’s raise the bottle and wager a boast

who gets to have this heavenly host

chorus:

worm

I look out across the bar’s hollow gut

rafters climb the walls like rib bones

sultry dancers move like cobras to the sounds of a skeleton band

I can hear him whisper

I can hear him call

every poker player in this dirty hall

he’s the garden viper

he’s the mongrel’s teeth

hair of the dog baby is all you need

cards in one hand glass in the other

drink up tomorrow we might be dead

god’s little children howlin like ghosts

come to wet their grave-thirsty throats

remember the worm the promise he keeps

bullfighters die and women weep

break out the bottle and I’ll show you what I mean

sell your soul for smoke and a drink

place your little lips around the neck

swallow the worm baby I’m your man