Guts John Cale

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[Verse 1]
The bugger in the short sleeves fucked my wife
Did it quick and split
Back home, fresh as a daisy to Maisie, oh Maisie

And the twelve-bore that stood in the corner
Quite operatic in its self-disgust
It blew him all over the living-room floor
Like parrot shit, parrot spit, parrot shit was shot

[Verse 2]
And I suppose it was someone familiar
Someone we all would know
Embarrassing denouement, ne c'est pas?
Familiar hyperbole

And there would go the secret plot
The piss had missed the hole in the pot
Like that ancient teenage dream
From soul to poison, soul to poison soul

[Chorus]
Guts, guts, got no guts
And stitches don't help at all
Yeah guts, guts, got no guts
Holes in the body, holes in the legs
Holes in the forehead, holes in the head
Holes in the body, holes in the legs
There should never be holes at all
There should never be holes at all