Crooked Cane

He was a mean old man and he carried a crooked cane
He walked along the boulevard to his house on Cripple Lane
He had two dogs, a cat, a one-eyed parrot named Jake
He had a wife, seven children, they say he drowned them in the lake

At night he would sleep with his eyes open and a hand on his gun
People wanted to kill him for what they think he had done
His dreams would take him back to that day at the lake
Where his wife and seven children they met their fate

One night he went walking to the house of red lights
There, he met a gang of vigilantes who were looking for a fight
They pulled out their chains, clubs, guns and their knives
They beat him and shot him and stabbed him & left him to there to die

He patched himself up with brown paper and glue
He looked like a monkey that had escaped from the zoo
So he wore a mask to cover up his scarred face
And tied up the brown paper with ribbons and lace

For years he wandered through the deserts and plains
Through an eye of a storm, through the snow and the rain
The wind tore at the paper that kept his wounds good
Then his leg turned green, so he replaced it with wood

He made himself a cane from a tree in Death Valley
He hunted high and low for those who left him dead in the alley
He searched for them in ghost town and ghettoes, he didn't stop
Resisted arrest for killing a skunk, had a fight, killed the cop

Carved the skull of the cop to fit his crooked cane
Wore his teeth around his neck and tied them up with his veins
Took his clothes, his gun, his car and his life
Took his wife and seven children and slit their throats with a knife