Wolf In Sheeps Clothing - Tackhead

Flaunting his fleece dressed to kill slowly

I guess you could call him a wolf in sheeps clothing

Midnight searsucker suit under a sheepskin full moon on the shadow

A face scarred by a certain sharp deal in that designer thrift shop number

A senator a statesman or a shark & smiling candy sweet

That glint in his eye like a pimp and if so inclined vote worthy too

From Brooklyn to Britain

Moscow to Bonn

Sizing up arms deals in the back of a bar

From hotels to motels from Kansas to Perth, popcorn hard porn, Donner & Blitzen

A sweaty palm greeting for kings & hookers while counting

The slums with a real estate vision

Caring not in him it’s not his style

It’s home to the wife with the smile of a child

In speeches his words carry a lot of weight

Like a man in insurance who beats up his date

No plans for the future no thought of the past

Life’s in his pocket he knows it won’t last

What a story he can tell

Whatever you want he’s ready to sell a worm in a three piece in search of a

fleece

I guess you can call him a wolf in sheeps clothing