I'm a twisted, sick and bitter asshole.
I'll get even any way I can.
Screwed over by some dumb bitch from Walthamstow
I caught her messing with another man.

So I adjusted my stetson
And loaded my best gun
(The bone-handled, nickle-plated Smith and Wesson).
Cuz I'm a twisted, sick and bitter man.

Peace and love were hardly overflowing
As I rode the bus cross town to my baby's flat.
I drunk everything that she had going
And when the booze ran out I shot her in the back.

Then I dragged her outside and started shovelling dirt
But the beat-bobby caught me with blood on my shirt
And he booked this twisted, sick and bitter man.

When the jury heard the nasty things that I did
They thought themselves the butt of some sick joke.
It wasn't long before they'd all decided
To let my cracker ass swing from a rope.

And the judge said he though there could have never existed
A man so bitter, sick and twisted.
And I'm that twisted, sick and bitter man.

So come on you good people gather round
As they dump my stinking body in the ground
Feel the rain and hear the rolling thunder
I'll be just as sick and twisted six feet under.

Yeah so long, suckers, I'll see you in hell
But by then I'll have a few more good stories to tell.
Here lies a twisted, sick and bitter man.

Yeah it's a long way down, but down we shall go.
And the devil himself may try and keep up if he can
With this twisted, sick and bitter man.