I sense a killing,
a guy for killing.

Your face is dour.
You are no angel,
of that I’m sure.

You are prone to the gun way
and you’ve offed many a man.
You’re mighty creepy with that gat.
Back of your sedan. . .

Your boot is full, your boot is full
your boot is full of Stu.
And his heart must race in that crowded place
and I bet there is no moue
on his face. . .more likely, rue.

Yeah, he’s gonna die,
but I won’t ask why.
I can see from YOUR face.
he’s an unlucky guy.
And I know his life will soon come to an end.
That’s why I want you to know that I am your friend!!

Your boot is full, your boot is full
your boot is full of Stu.
I’ll keep shut my face ’bout how you’ll erase
him and how it will ensue.
Just do what you gotta do.

Your boot is full, your boot is full
your boot is full of Stu
But I will never tell what I saw in this place;
I’ll dummy up—you can believe it’s true:
I’d never be so uncouth
as to go and rat on you.