Lyric Angel s Delight

A necklace of rubber, burning bright
A burning rubber necklace for my angel s delight
A holiday in a box, opportunity knocks
for the rich man s militia photographing my block
Kill a cop. Why the hell not?

YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn!
I got a word for you: dead
Got a trampoline--your fuckin head

You roll down my street in your gleaming new car
I ve got no secrets, cash or time left to give you
but I ve got something else for you, my friend
A crack in the restless night, a broken bone on the pavement
Angel s delight was a recurring statement
Burn a bailiff--spill, don t save it

YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn!
Run, run, run, run!
You can have what you ask, but not in cash
[with a?] credit card, a payment slashed
You can put it where your mouth used to be
You can put it where your dick used to be
You can [...?] looking at me, looking at you
[...?] blacklist, [...?] blacklist
What do you do when words collapse
and all that s left is broken glass?
I know, I know I m trapped

I ve got a holiday in a big oak box
with my friend, the famous PC Plod, Plod, Plod*
Kill a cop, kill a cop,
you lay a hand on me, I m gonna kill you, cop.
Hey! Let s all kill some cops.
Some bailiffs.
Assholes.

* "PC Plod" is a well known and derogatory name for a British beat cop. It s capitalized, like "John Q. Public."