The bullets hit their bones
Agony in their screaming
Crying children shrieking
And three crows peck, peck, peck

Sirens blare in the morning
Dead bodies litter busy street
Their blood stains dispersed
And three crows pick at easy meat

The small girl lit her cigarette
And cleaned her machine gun
The little ****** had some fun
And the three crows pecked, pecked, peck