Black Pete

You keep telling me how your man can't work
And has no place left to go
And he had to stop wearing his short-sleeve shirts
Because his tracks began to show
Saying how the speed's gotten bigger than him
He's got a habit too big to beat
Next thing, Black Pete's hitting up in the kitchen
And you're standing out in the street

You keep telling me how the world's popped out
And that living is the easy way
How a hardcore freak's got the real best life
With a chance to die at least twice a day
But a quick death's best when your head's all messed
And your body couldn't really be saved
You've got a spoon in one hand and a foot in the grave
Ain't you got enough guts to behave?

All the books you read are getting down on speed
Putting all the facts in sight
But your meth mouth taste's going all to waste
If you don't turn on the light
And you think you're free if you don't believe
All the words that are written and said
But Black Pete's riding a big white horse
He'll keep you running until you're dead