Buckethead - Ballad of Buckethead lyrics

"Who's that guitar-playin' son of a b**h?" Is a question commonly asked On his head a bucket of chicken bones On his face a placid mask He's the ba*tard son of a preacherman On the town he left a stain They made him live in a chicken house To try and hide the shame He was born in a coop Raised in a cage Children fear him Critics rage He's half alive He's half dead Folks just call him Buckethead! Farmboys would torment him As he snuggled with the hens They'd hose him down with water And steal his little friends But late at night he'd sneak off To the graveyard all alone And play his soapbox guitar To the faces made of stone Buckethead found his freedom At the age of seventeen When he burnt the chicken house down With a quart of gasoline He did puppet shows on corners And bought a real guitar And with the help of Colonel Sanders He's bound to be a star He was born in a coop Raised in a cage Children fear him Critics rage He's half alive He's half dead Folks just call him Buckethead!