Masters of the Deal by Eric Bachmann Lyrics
At the scene
Of the slow crime
Of the century
Wanda Jean awoke
Attached to two IVs
Lost her name
In a shell game
To the masters of the deal
For the sanctioned closure
And the governor's seal
By the trains
On the east side
Near an oil refinery
Marvin Lee took hold
Of a snitch and let him bleed
So betrayed
In a shell game
Where the jury all agreed
Marvin Lee's a ghost
Attached to two IVs
So what if they're wrong?
So what if they're right?
Let Lenny live?
Or let Lenny die?
What should be an old relic by now
Should never have been
From a tree
By a small stream
In a trifling Texas town
[?]
When they shot poor Johnny down
Duly framed
In a shell game
So the truth was not revealed
For the sake of closure
For the masters of the deal
So what if they're wrong?
So what if they're right?
Let Lenny live?
Would you let Lenny die?
What should be an old relic by now
Should never have been
The South is a ghost
A ghost is a lie
Harassing the roads
And haunting the pines
His mind may be slow
But that killer knows
Just how you feel
How you feel
Just how you feel
(At the scene
Of the slow crime
Of the century)
Of the slow crime
Of the century
Wanda Jean awoke
Attached to two IVs
Lost her name
In a shell game
To the masters of the deal
For the sanctioned closure
And the governor's seal
By the trains
On the east side
Near an oil refinery
Marvin Lee took hold
Of a snitch and let him bleed
So betrayed
In a shell game
Where the jury all agreed
Marvin Lee's a ghost
Attached to two IVs
So what if they're wrong?
So what if they're right?
Let Lenny live?
Or let Lenny die?
What should be an old relic by now
Should never have been
From a tree
By a small stream
In a trifling Texas town
[?]
When they shot poor Johnny down
Duly framed
In a shell game
So the truth was not revealed
For the sake of closure
For the masters of the deal
So what if they're wrong?
So what if they're right?
Let Lenny live?
Would you let Lenny die?
What should be an old relic by now
Should never have been
The South is a ghost
A ghost is a lie
Harassing the roads
And haunting the pines
His mind may be slow
But that killer knows
Just how you feel
How you feel
Just how you feel
(At the scene
Of the slow crime
Of the century)