Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Tackhead

Flaunting his fleece dressed to kill slowly, I guess you could call him a wolf in sheeps clothing. Midnight searsucker suit under a sheepskin full moon on the shadow, a face scarred by a certain sharp deal in that designer thrift shop number, a senator a statesman or a shark & smiling candy sweet, that glint in his eye like a pimp and if so inclined vote worthy too. Chorus From Brooklyn to Britain, Moscow to Bonn, sizing up arms deals in the back of a bar, from hotels to motels from Kansas to Perth, popcorn hard porn, Donner & Blitzen A sweaty palm greeting for kings & hookers while counting, the slums with a real estate vision, caring not in him it's not his style, it's home to the wife with the smile of a child. Chorus In speeches his words carry a lot of weight, like a man in insurance who beats up his date, no plans for the future no thought of the past, life's in his pocket he knows it won't last, what a story he can tell, whatever you want he's ready to sell a worm in a three piece in search of a fleece, I guess you can call him a wolf in sheeps clothing. Chorus

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