Tchoupitoulas Slim - Fatter Than Albert

The heat is rising to 300 degrees

While these decorative bullet holes adorn our city limit signs

Would you wanna be alone

When our streets are dressed up in pitch black?

There’s a shadow on the prowl tonight,

His cross hairs are indiscriminate

We’ve fallen pray

To the darkest of hearts

We’re staring down the barrel

Of an epidemic

I have no murder wish this evening!

When did killing

Become instinctive?

When did he become a victim of you and me?

When did she become the killer outside your door?