Murder most foul in the kitchen:
you shot me down
when I was in for the kill,
with another drink in my hand
and a line on my lips.
“So who were you stalking outside?”
you said to my frown.
“Well, I was . . . she was a friend.”
“What were you doing with your hand?”
wiped the smile off my lips.
G5 – D/F# – A7sus4 – Bm –
Oh, bury me in the garden
cos I want to come up roses—
things are getting messy in the house
party as the shit flies.
But as we said all along,
we’re not Adam and Eve,
living for the sweet Hereafter.
We don’t want tears and laughter,
it’s sex and slaughter for the Honeymoon Killers.
[chords as verse]
A lonely heart can kill like a suicide pill,
so suck it up and do what you will—
kiss her goodbye . . .
Oh, the lights are much too bright in here
under the grill,
as she roasts me slowly:
“Oh, it was just the vodka talking
when I gave her the lip.”
“Bury Me in the Garden”: http://trad.appspot.com/song/Bury_Me_in_the_Garden: “Bury me in the garden, mother, mother. Bury me in the garden, mother, mother, mother dear. Bury me in the garden.” “O, the moonlight shines so bright, way down in the garden ’neath the sycamore tree.”