He got a sheath made of plastic grabs it over his head forty gallons of petrol
Gonna burn you all dead
A forty-five strapped to his side
A machete in his hand
What's the name. What's the game
Holy Hack Jack's the man
He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
He's a sick sick, sick gone man
He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
He's a sick sick, sick gone man
He hobbles along on a busted knee
Knife strapped to his thigh
Bombs and blades, hand grenades
Somebody's gonna die
With his ca**ocks an' his robes and his leather chaps covered by a plastic mack
He's sick he's insane Holy Hack Jack's at it again
Sick sick, sick sick
Chorus
Clapped out buggy down darkened streets likes to k** whoever he meets
He's sick he's insane Holy Hack Jack's at it again
Sick sick, sick sick
He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
He's a sick sick, sick gone man
He's a sick sick, sick gone mother
He's a sick sick, sick gone man
Sick sick, sick sick