An extremely quiet child
They called you and your school report
He's always taking interest
In the subjects that he's taught
So what was it that bought the squad car screaming up
your drive?
To notify your parents Of the manner in which you died?
At St. Patrick's every Sunday Father Fletcher heard your sins
Oh he's unconcerned with competition
He never cares to win
But blood stained a young hand
That never held a gun
His parents never thought of him
As their troubled son
Oh you'll never get to heaven Mama said
Remember Mama said
Tickin' Tickin' Curb straight and truth blue
Run along to bed
Hear it
Hear it Tickin' Tickin'
Well they had you holed up in a downtown bar
Screaming for a priest
Some gook said his brain just snapped
And someone called the police
You knifed a negro waiter who had tried to calm you down
Oh you pulled a gun and told them all
to lay still on the ground
Promising to hurt no one
Providing they were still
Well a young man tried to make a break
Oh with teal filled eyes you killed
Oh that gun butt felt so smooth and warm Cradled in your palm
Oh your child cried out in your head
They mean to do you harm
Don't ever ride on the devil's knee Mama said
Oh remember Mama said Tickin'
Tickin'
Pay your parents well my child And feel where angels tread
Hear it
Hear it Tickin' Tickin'
Within an hour the news had reached
the media machine
A male Caucasian with a gun
had gone berserk in Queens
The area had been sealed off
The kids sent home from school
Fourteen people lying dead in a bar they called
the Kicking Mule
They pleaded to your sanity
for the sake of those inside
Throw out your gun,
walk out slow Just keep those hands held high
But they pumped you full of rifle shells
As you walked out the door
Oh you danced in death like a marionette
On the vengeance of the law
Oh you slept too long in silence
Mama said
Oh remember Mama said
Tickin' Tickin'
Crazy for you and only woke up with strange notions in your head
Hear me Hear me Tickin' Tickin'
Ticky!