Icicle Tusk

I'll shoot you dead

For the father

Of the coal miner's daughter

Beneath the icicle tusk

You and me among the flattering dusk

In my haste I draw my weapon

Designing your final lesson

As you recede to the floor

All is silent but the fluttering door

Twenty-five grand on the table

Of the high wall street stable

I'm not responsible for

The reputation of the

Neighborhood whore

But I'm a keyhole peeker

And you're my surveilance keeper

And though my memory rusts

I will always see the icicle tusk

And I must admit

That it gets lonesome on my shelf

This much I can tell

This much I can tell