Well ain't life a bitch, and don't the devil got horns
And didn't Jesus Christ have a crown made of thorns
I got a gun on my hip, a curse on my lips
I've had a sign hanging round my neck since the day I was born

Every single one of them has got its own feel
I'm riding on my wings, baby here comes hell

Well the devil's got a pitchfork, but I got a gun
It's said it ain't easy, but it sure is fun
I got Jesus on my side, and a dashboard on my right
When I ride, I'm going to ride straight into that setting sun

Every single one of them has got its own feel
I'm riding on my wings, baby here comes hell

Well the devil has got us with thе short end of the stick
And I'm sick with a hepatitis and my tonguеs getting get ripped
But remember my friends that you must repent
If you're grateful then the serpent's bite won't ever make you sick

Every single one of them has got its own feel
I'm riding on my wings, baby here comes hell