Lyrics The Gun Club

The Gun Club

Bad Indian

You blew me out

South and Texas too

I made love to California

To get away from you

New York city made you a

Hungry girl

You should have catch me

In the end of the world

I don't believe you

What are you doing down here?

You need something in a shoe

Or are you just a Bad Indian?

Bad Indians

They love the land they hate

Eat your flesh and then forget the taste

Some describe, that primal drive

To consume what's theirs

And seek what's mine

I don't believe them

And I don't believe you

I suspect everything you do

'Cause you are like a Bad Indian

Bad Indian

Do your war dance

Now you're stripped

By the things you do

Your ass is glass

And I can see through you

Go find somebody

Who ain't been so hard

Give me an overdose of the drug

That you are

You are like a ghost

With crazy hands and mouth

A necklace made of eyeballs

You are just a Bad Indian

Bad Indian, Bad Indian, Bad Indian