Bad Indian (Live) (Live in Rotterdam 1984)

Bad Indian (Live in Rotterdam 1984) - The Gun Club

Written by：Jeffrey Pierce

You blew me out of the south

And texas too

I made love to california to get away from you

New york has made you a hungry girl

Now you catch up with me at the end of the world

I don't believe you

What are you doing down here

You need something in a shoe

Or are you just a bad indian

Bad indians

They love the land they hate

Eat your flesh and then forget the taste

Someone describe that primal drive

To consume what's theirs and seek what's mine

I don't believe them

And I don't believe you

I suspect everything you do

'Cause you are like a bad indian

Bad indian

Do your war dance

Now you're stripped

By the things you do

Your a** is glass and I can see through you

Go find somebody

Who ain't been so hard

Give me an overdose of the drug that you are

You are like a ghost

With crazy hands and mouth

A necklace made of eyeballs

You are like a bad indian bad indian

A bad indian a bad indian