corruption is the currency - bain wolfkind lyrics
crawling like a kingsnake
through the motel door
through the empty whiskey bottles
strewn upon the floor
shooting out at midnight
forty*four in hand
a body lying six feet deep
in the desert sand
a suitcase full of greenbacks
somewhere on the run
now the blood’s upon is his hands
from a stolen gun
[refrain]
the cops are closing in
the streets are awash with sin
corruption is the currency
and the soul of this dying land
the cops are closing in
the streets are awash with sin
corruption is the currency
and the soul of this dying land
crawling like a kingsnake
through the motel door
through the empty whiskey bottles
strеwn upon the floor
shooting out at midnight
forty*four in hand
a body lying six feet deep
in the desеrt sand
a suitcase full of greenback
somewhere on the run
now the blood’s upon is his hand
from a stolen gun
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