"Who's that guitar-playin' son of a bitch?"
Is a question commonly asked
On his head a bucket of chicken bones
On his face a placid mask
He's the bastard son of a preacherman
On the town he left a stain
They made him live in a chicken house
To try and hide the shame
He was born in a coop
Raised in a cage
Children fear him
Critics rage
He's half alive
He's half dead
Folks just call him Buckethead!
Farmboys would torment him
As he snuggled with the hens
They'd hose him down with water
And steal his little friends
But late at night he'd sneak off
To the graveyard all alone
And play his soapbox guitar
To the faces made of stone
Buckethead found his freedom
At the age of seventeen
When he burnt the chicken house down
With a quart of gasoline
He did puppet shows on corners
And bought a real guitar
And with the help of Colonel Sanders
He's bound to be a star
He was born in a coop
Raised in a cage
Children fear him
Critics rage
He's half alive
He's half dead
Folks just call him Buckethead!
The Ballad Of Buckethead Lyrics performed by Primus are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that The Ballad Of Buckethead Lyrics performed by Primus is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD