Letras
The magic is black
Backyard happy and fertile
For Kasso the acid king of the black circle
Same year Bowie dropped, two horns hatched and matured
To gore Northport's '84
Here is '84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy!
Wake up the Orwell in me
Crack rock, anyway, seventeen summers in developing
Would it be the middle school or ketamine, guess
Left home in the dark, to curl up in a bear hug in Suffolk county's arms
With a bevy of heavy metal records and leather bibles
More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael
More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas
Fly with the pentagram pilot
Sabbath and Judas and all tunes prudent
Seems tame now, but then it was devil music
Rick six, the nickname clicks
Makeshift altar in a clearing in the sticks
Forfeit a kitten by the forks from the kitchen
With horsemen who drew the same symbols
Pitchforks waving out a grand theft four by four support system, alas
Angus on the ax in the back
Foreground offering a pitch-dark animal corpse and backyard black mass
And a brash curiosity opt for grave robbery
To puff and pluck skulls at a cemetery property
Cops cuff him and stuff him in Amityville Asylum
It's fantasy island for Noah's Lions, at the time
South Oaks, but focus on the environment
And how it couldn't loosen the Lucifer out his client who would flee
Pale moon, pale horse howling death
And LSD to make it mean more than it meant
Pay attention, here's where the whole thing sours
And goes from intrigue into wowzers
At a party, a passed out drunk Kasso gets got for ten bags of dust
Now it's not a big town, and people are big mouths
So he fishes around 'til he figures it out
Gary Lauwers, seventeen years young
You have no idea what you've done
Track him down, beat him pissy
He got five bags back, still owes him fifty
Oh Ricky, Ricky, do we hound him for loot,
Or show him how the hellbound do? Hm