Bring me the head of Robert Howard
Plastik
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65. outer lane.
got a headrush and a pickled brain.
4 of us, he looks 9 stone.
something to kick in on our way back home.
wildlife - run for your life.
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"bring me the head of robert howards.
i've got blood on my breath.
i wont stop until he's dead".
170. across the playing field.
4 hyenna at my heels.
net curtains. closed doors. double locked.
do what you like, but not in front of us.
and when they find his bloodied crown,
cracked open on a porcelain throne,
they'll say, "but he was a slip of a lad";
but every son must have a dad.