Shambling down the roadside    Cheering as he goes    A manic, flailing cretin    In filthy, tattered clothes    Dead things are his playmates    He takes them in his care    Clutching limbs and tails    He whips roadkill through the air       He uses them in puppet shows    Hung around his shack    Stuffs his backpack full of fur    Some bloody—most are flat    Tied onto his belt of rope    A skirt of sunbaked stink    Running out of furry friends    He strokes their pelts and thinks       Setting makeshift traps    He titters and he claps    Birdies, fish, and rats    Are crammed in burlap sacks       [Guitar solo: Olivo]       He drags the critters to the street    Waits for cars to pass    Then throws them at the tire wells    It kills them very fast    Sometimes lucky animals    Scurry past unharmed    Cretin screams and gives up chase    But catching them is hard       Drags them from their dens    Yanks them from their pens    They bite his scabby hand    He tosses them again       [Guitar solo: Martinez]       One day running after prey    A stormy winter day    An orange van hits the man    And breaks both of his legs    He drags himself back to his fort    Despite the biting pain    And wraps himself in animals    Roadkill that he made