I have the road in my blood, I drive a custom van,
I play the tunes; I'm the neighbourhood ice-cream man,
So, don't you mess this boy around.
The other day, when the clinic had its local debut, some chicks were trying to picket, the doctor threatened to sue.
Now, I don't care if it's a baby or a tissue blob, but if we run out of youngsters I'll be out of a job, and so I...I did my duty: cleaning up the neighbourhood,
I blew up the clinic real good.
Try and catch me, coppers,
You stinking badges better think again before you mess this boy around.
I've hung in Saigon just to see the special effects,
I've hung from gravity boots for my Napoleon complex.
It's time to close: ooh...there she blows,
History in the making,
You picked the fight, I picked dynamite,
I blew up the clinic real good.
Preacher on a corner, calling it a crime,
Says, "The ends don't justify the means anytime,"
I stood up on my van, I yelled, "Excuse me sir, ain't nothing wrong with this country that a few plastic explosives won't cure."
Look at that mamma,
Did you see that?
Oh, I blew up the clinic real good,
I blew up the clinic,
Blew it up real good.
