Slingshot Professionals Songtext
von Kelly Joe Phelps

Calculated entry in the class of circumspection
Reasoning, bargaining the last few drams of spirits
The serum of one′s foolishness
Oh, the truth be told in a cold pint head
16 ounces of pure warlord
Dripping down the side of the glass, hmm

Yeah, we're marching ′cross the family's' land
The bagpipes and the drums
Oh, the skirts are flying high me, boys
Let′s bust ′em in the shins
No matter nothing knowing, no
Nothing owing save the garden say
Of a crooked hobbled garish man
Oh, with sundown in his eyes, aw, in his eyes


50-year-old walking stick worn through the lion's head
Carried proud like a saber on a limestone statuette
Oh, the littles can′t decide
Which to lust for, which to desecrate
Imagination sits with the marbles
In a drawer, ooh

A lot of slingshot song and dancing
Blasting out the lead paned windows
There're the wing whipped curtains sway
This way like giant mockingbirds
Those damned lads and lasses
Have forgotten how to play
Hard pressed to find the one
Hard pressed to find the one
Who ever learned how to sing

Ay, ay, ay, mmm
Slingshot
Slingshot
Slingshot