Lyrics
He’ll come knocking when he’s ready so you better get the door
Don’t let the black clothes fool you: he hates the shadows too
He’s a thunderbolt in August and a March-time rolling hill
He’s a winter without snowfall, he’s your credit that is due
With gnashing teeth and iron fist
A yellow sticker on an empty fridge
Hear him coming up the path, crushing dirt in those big boots
He’ll go turning gravel over to show you what’s beneath
He’s got Atlantic city postcards hidden in his coat
He collects used bullets stored in the shoes down on his feet
Who lives in his father’s house? Who’s as quiet as a mouse?
With gnashing teeth and iron fist
A yellow sticker on an empty fridge
When you let him in the house, put water on the stove
Make sure the liquor shelf is bursting and all the beer is cold
He don’t take no for an answer like a plane cuts through the sky
He’ll sell you down the river, down the river you are sold
WRITERS
Eamon McGrath, Gregory Millson
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © SODRAC
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LyricIQ Analysis
Top Emotion
Sadness
Sentiment
Theme
Substance Use
