Brother Dege - The Zatan Boys | Текст песни

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(from the novel The Battle Hymn of the Good Ol'Hillbilly Zatan Boys)
This here’s the story of the good old hillbilly Zatan boys. These old boys were wild. And they had guns. And they'd been itching for one of them thar Branch-Davidian Freakouts for a long time. But that freakout never really came around, so they kept doing as they'd always done...just hanging round the mountain, killing time and eating snakemeat and squatting by the fire. Sipping straight White Jesus shine from a dirty cup with a leg propped up on a deadcar. Deadcar. Deadcar. Deadcar. So yeah, you get the idea. It was slow going on the mountain. Boys was tripped out...way up in the thick of the backwoods. You had to stay busy or the nights roasted you like a sickly chicken and them nights were followed by big old mountain pounding days that'd have you sniveling for the reapers seeds and swearing that the sun had wires in it...what with the buzz and scrape of insects buzzing round your brains. Crawling up your skin. It was hard going up on the mountain, but country mountain folks got to survive. And they just did what had to be done. They was some hard folks. Because times was hard. But no harder than the smelly greasy heads of the good old hillbilly Zatan boys. They stitched a wicked strangeness and rode the ghost of it out of the backwoods, mulching humping rotten stumps and porn-fornicating on the dark blanket of the moist hills. Just having a good old time...all while maniacally exploring the bizarre circus of dementia lodged far back in the twisted creeks of their minds. This is their story and this is their battle hymn: The Battle Hymn of the Good Ol'Hillbilly Zatan Boys.

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