Hangman Lyrics - Dead - Young Fathers

I'm almost there. 

I'm almost there, 

But not quite 

Travelling through the bayou, 

Feel the eeriness at sunset 

My senses on high alert, 

So I say, 'Hello! Who's there?' 

Nothing 

Like a whistle in the wind 

As I move on forward 

I hear the leaves rustling 

(Leaves rustling) 

In a state of grace words 

I shouldn't have said are all forgiven 

All the days of bad forgotten 

But still, to me, revenge 

Is a dish best served cold 

Like ice cold with an ice pick 

And a blindfold 

I'm going, going, gone 

I said, 'I'm going, going, gone' 

Time to meet your maker 

Time to meet your maker 

I'm prowling, growling, howling 

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Hangman 

A bullet a piece for the two of you 

(Hey) 

For you 

Photos 

Low deep nasty 

You chopping me down like the Amazon 

No getting past me 

Two feet in the air 

You wouldn't last a marathon 

Racing with the panther 

The maximum price-ah 

Curator of the faith-ah 

I'm never too late-ah 

Don't shoot the messenger 

Shoot the messenger's mother 

Ffucker 

Hangman 

A bullet a piece for the two of you 

For you