I throw the evidence into a trunk
I sleep with eye on the bedroom door
Carving away our finger prints out of
Our finger tips until they're smooth
I sleep with one hand on my royal flush
Call it a dead beat with his dead bolt
Wrapped around his artifact
I sleep with one had on my 45
The other 'round my baby's waist
I go to bed with all my lights turned on
Out on the street I keep a started car