Lletres: Dead Kennedys. Fresh Fruit For Rotten Vegetables. The Prey.

You're from out of town
I can tell that by your shoes
Flew in for the convention
Gettin' tipsy in a bar

You're leavin' pretty late
Gotta get up in the mornin'
Thinkin' she's just too expensive
And you know, you're
Probably
Right

There's no one on the streets
And you can't find your hotel
You walk a little faster
Someone's followin' you

The wallet size bulge
In your double knit butt
Has money for me
And maybe credit cards

You dart around the next corner
You can't look around
Quick now, fish for the keys for the door
You don't even know where you are

You walk a little faster
I walk a little faster
Sensin' that I sense you
Now there's no escape

I can almost taste your dandruff
As I reach out for your face
And I strike