Sloth Hands - The Death of William Poole Lyrics

Leader of the Bowry Boys in1834 or so
A boxer named Poole first name William the Butcher
He was there
At the heart of America's fist
With an iron grip on its dreams

A white man in New York he had fancied himself a native
Took disgust with all the Irish and the others who were not
Just like him
The fist of America's heart
With a dream of choking it out

Now William had enemies and wouldn't you know one day
He got shot in a parlor room and died a couple days
After that
And with his last breath he thanked God
That he got to die a true American

Now William's apparition has risen from the grave and
Takes revenge on all the ballot boxes haunts us every day
Oh my friend
Ain't no pistol that can stop the heart
In the fist of a toxic dream

Pull fingers out one by one
'Til knuckles lay open face
I won't vote for a ghost

Nothing they can do can't be undone