Holy Hack Jack

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 cassocks 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 kill

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