Some people say when dilinger died
That the job was inside
I feel the same about love and war
Sometimes we're divided in threes
Wake up with dirt on our knees
And wonder what we've been k**ing for
In these times of harsh economy
A thief is left to heart and soul robbery
Something selling the automatic
We fire it up and then we have at it
It's all between the eyes and the wrist
Between the lies and the trist
Between the money and were we run
Running in the alleys of grade
Zero degrees in the shade
The odds of this were a billion to none
Its easy enough to switch possessions
But don't use all your ammunition
Once we've been hit we won't be friends again
Sometimes blood is the best medicine?
I'd wrap up every day
Take it off throw it away
But tonight it is not truth I'd dare
Just risky business all the time
Drunk on whisky, drunk on whine
One in the chamber and one already in the air