Perfect day for a violent death

there’s something strange about this town tonight
the owls look down in disbelief, the moon hides behind a cloud
again these dumbass rednecks are in for a fight
cruising down the streets in their pick ups with the barrels sticking out

harassing one of us is what they’re after
it’s our looks and occupations they don’t like
humiliation and violence they celebrate with churlish laughter
when the party runs out of hand we end up bleeding in the dike

scared of the unknown, frustrated to the bone
a strange language or different behaviour is a trouble feeder
who’s the victim of circumstance, they are different when alone
but they get really vile when they gather around their sado-facist leader

there’s something strange about this crate here, folks, they said
that’s right, we caught one of them and took him across the border
first chloroformed him, piece of soap up his ass, and bet
he would start screaming for his mum, scared shitless, and for law and order