The Ballad Of Buckethead 歌词

Who's this guitar playing sonsa bitch? Is a question common asked On his head a bucket of chicken bones, On his face a plaster mask He's the bastard son of a preacher man, On the town he left a stain They made him live in a chicken house To try to and hide the shame He was born in a coop, raised in a cage Children fear him, critics rage He's half alive, he's half dead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Farmers would torment him as He snuggled with the hens They'd hose him down with water, And steal his little friends Now late at night he'd sneak off To the graveyard all alone, And play a soapbox guitar To the faces made of stone Buckethead found his freedom At the age of seventeen, When he burned the chicked house Down with a quart of gasoline He did puppet shows on corners And bought a real guitar, And with the help of colonel Sanders, He's bound to be a star He was born in a coop, raised in a cage Children fear him, critics rage He's half alive, he's half dead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead Folks just call him buckethead