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DEATH IS COMING TO GET YOU Sign in or register

Death is coming to get you
It's mighty plain to see
With a handful of cocaine and a long white limousine
He's got rings on his fingers
Knives up his sleeve
He sucking all the air up till there's nothing left to breathe
Well he's looking in the phone book
For you number and your name
And he's coming to your house
While you're watching the football game
He's pulling up the driveway with the windows rolled up tight
And the eyes going blind and your hair is turning white
Well he's crawling up the stairs with a can of mace
And he's breaking all the windows with your neighbor's face
He sets your clothes on fire
Brings you to your knees
He's filling up the room with jesters and disease
He smashes the TV
Decapitates your mom
Raids the refrigerator
Throws vermin on the lawn
Plays frisbee with your records
Pours blood on the walls
Uses your telephone to make long distance calls
He's laughing at your diary
He's puking on your suits
He's dancing on your forehead in your hiking boots
He's climbing up the chimney
He's falling through the roof
He ties you up with snakes and takes your drugs and booze
He's sending back all of the bills that you paid
He covers you with bacon and fills your mouth with Raid
He's got everything you own out on the patio
And he's giving it away to people you don't know
But you don't even care
Your mind has been destroyed
And this is the kind of stupid song
You write when you're unemployed

APPEARS ON:
The History Of Beck - A Selection Of His Non-DGC Work
Fresh Meat + Old Slabs

LENGTH:
2:21

OTHER TITLE:
Death Is Coming To Get Me

WRITTEN BY:
Beck Hansen

PRODUCED BY:
Beck Hansen

RECORDED BY:
Beck Hansen

PERFORMERS:
Beck Hansen
Vocals, Guitar, Percussion

Death is coming to get you
It's mighty plain to see
With a handful of cocaine and a long white limosine
With diamonds on his fingers and knives up his sleeve
Sucking up the oxygen till there's nothing left to breathe
He's coming with a banjo that ain't got no strings
Taserguns and vitamins and plastic tambourines
He don't care if you're not ready
He don't care if you're not dressed
If you beg he won't listen
You can't bribe him with bad checks
Cos he's coming with some glasses wrapped around his skull
Brass-plated knuckles and a bulletproof soul
His bodyguards are ugly and his slaves are all weak
His wife's got the heads of roasted pigs on their feet
His children are all naked with broken arms and legs
His parents are covered with dried rotten eggs
He's looking in the phonebook for your number and your name
And he's coming to your house while you're watching the game
He's coming up the driveway with the windows rolled up tight
His eyes are all frozen and his hair is turning white
He's creeping up the stairs with a can of mace
He's breaking all the windows with your neighbor's face
Your clothes burst into flames as you fall to your knees
He's filling up the room with jesters and disease
He breaks all your records
Decapitates your mom
Raids the refridgerator
Throws vermin on the lawn
Smashes the TV
Pours blood on the walls
He uses your telephone to make long distance calls
He's laughing at your dairy
He's puking on your suits
He's dancing on your forehead in your hiking boots
He's crawling up the chimney
He's falling through the roof
He'll tie you up with snakes
Take your drugs and your booze
He's dragged your little sister hanging by a braid
Covers you with bacon and fills your mouth with Raid
He's got everything your own out on the patio
And he's giving it away to people you don't know
But you don't even care
Your mind has been destroyed
You're mutilated deformed and unemployed

APPEARS ON:
Golden Leftovers

LENGTH:
2:47

OTHER TITLE:
Death Is Coming To Get Me

WRITTEN BY:
Beck Hansen

PRODUCED BY:
Beck Hansen

ENGINEERED BY:
Beck Hansen

PERFORMERS:
Beck Hansen
Vocals, Acoustic Guitar

Death is coming to get you
It's mighty plain to see
With a hand full of cocaine and a long white limousine
He's got rings on his fingers and knives all up his sleeve
Sucking all the air up till there's nothing left to breathe
He don't care if you're not ready
He don't care if you're not dressed
You beg
He won't listen
You can't bribe him with blank checks
Cos he's looking in the phone book
For your number and your name
And he's coming to your house
When you're watching a football game
Well he's pulling up the driveway
With the windows rolled up tight
And his eyes are going blind and his hair is turning white
He's crawling up the stairs with a can of mace
He's breaking all the windows with your neighbor's face
He sets your clothes on fire and brings you to your knees
He fills up the room with a fashion and disease
Well he breaks smashes the TV
Decapitates your mom
Raids the refrigerator
Throws vermin on the lawn
Throws frisbees in your records
Pours blood on the walls
Uses your telephone to make long-distance calls
He's laughing at your diary
He's puking on your suits
He's dancing on your forehead in your hiking boots
He's crawling up the chimney
He's falling through the roof
He ties you up with vipers
Takes all your drugs and booze
He's covering you with bacon and he fills your mouth with Raid
He's sending back all the bills that you've thought you paid
He's got everything you own out on the patio
And he's giving it away to people you don't even know
Well you don't even care
Your mind has been destroyed
You're mutilated molested and unemployed

NOTES:
KCRW version

APPEARS ON:
KCRW: 1993-07-23

DATE RECORDED:
July 23rd 1993

LENGTH:
2:38

OTHER TITLE:
Death Is Coming To Get Me

WRITTEN BY:
Beck Hansen

PERFORMERS:
Beck Hansen
Vocals, Banjo

Dallas Don Burnette
Drums

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