Dirty Frank Dahmer, he's a gourmet cook... Got a recipe for famous ankle soup. Wanted a pass, so she relaxed... Now the little groupie's getting chopped up in the back. Got a cupboard full of fleshy fresh ingredients. Very careful, at the same time quite expedient. Eats meat, a release... Bus driving's harder on your head than on your feet.
Keeps it clean, keeps it copasetic. The little boys and girls, their heads are all collected. Not crazy, per se...just a little strange when he gets hungry. City, state, your town, he will continue. Stadiums, tiny clubs, every venue. His bus, your trust...There goes another turned into crust.
Watch it now... Why that dirty Frank was a bad mother... Shut your mouth! Hey man, I'm just talking about Dirty Frank! Cook... there those fucking kids are driving me crazy...
Middle of the night, we're stopped, the freeway shoulder. Frank's shoveling to bury the leftovers. They're sunk...he's drunk. Now he's gonna drive, I'm hiding in my bunk. The band all knows, we're too afraid to mention. Don't want to be part of Frank's luncheon. Lose weight, be safe... Where's Mike McCready? My god, he's been ate!