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Carbon copy of myself
Like two o’clock struck on a bell.
Who could tell?
Duplication

I’d be heaven, he’d be hell,
Give him the worst of me as well.
I’d send myself
On vacation.

Ooo, child,
Here he comes,
He’s got a gun
And no discretion.

He keeps a run-for-cover list,
Not a person will be missed.
Violence is
His occupation.

My carbon copy looks like me,
I’ll be far across the sea!
I’ll get some sun,
And recreation.

Ooo, child,
Here he comes,
He’s got a gun.

And
Ooo, child,
Here he comes,
You’d better run
In my direction.

If by chance, you should see me on the street,
Keep your head down, no end of conversation to me.
You better show me some uncommon courtesy,
Your gonna have to deal with him if you should f*ck around with…

Ooo, child,
Here he comes,
He’s got a gun.

And
Ooo, child,
Here he comes,
You’d better run
In my direction.