he got a sheath made of plastic grabs it over his head forty gallons of petrol gonna burn you all dead a forty five strapped to his side a machete in his hand what s the name what s the game holy hack jack s the man he s a sick sick sick gone mother he s a sick sick sick gone man he s a sick sick sick gone mother he s a sick sick sick gone man he hobbles along on a busted knee knife strapped to his thigh bombs and blades hand grenades somebody s gonna die with his cassocks an his robes and his leather chaps covered by a plastic mack he s sick he s insane holy hack jack s at it again sick sick sick sick chorus clapped out buggy down darkened streets likes to kill whoever he meets he s sick he s insane holy hack jack s at it again sick sick sick sick he s a sick sick sick gone mother he s a sick sick sick gone man he s a sick sick sick gone mother he s a sick sick sick gone man sick sick sick sick