russian bootie

Verse 1] Boot, the whiskered Don, they say Once ran the alleys in his heyday No teeth, just gums, a wheezy rasp, A mobster past you couldn't surpass. Cement boots? His favorite toy, Dumped in the river, no chance for a buoy. [Verse 2] Shadowy meetings, deals made in fur, Boot on his throne, a menacing purr. Milk was his whisky, catnip his smoke, Enemies trembled, till the asthma awoke. Hacking and coughing, the old Don would reel, Power slipping, a fate he couldn't conceal. [Chorus] Oh, Boot, Boot, the king of the night, Faded glory, gasping for the light. His wheezing a dirge, a raspy refrain, The mobster with nine lives, fading in pain. With a Yiddish lament, and a bluesy moan, His story unfolds, chilling to the bone. [Verse 3] Flea-bitten rivals start closin' in, The wheezy old kingpin, his reign growing thin. A tabby named Tiny, with eyes cold as steel, Challenges Boot, aiming for the heel. A brawl in the fish yard, fur flying free, Boot's claws are dull, age wins the decree. [Verse 4] Whispers in doorways, a power so frail, Boot stumbles home, dragging a hairless tail. His throne now a dumpster, crown a tin can, The alley echoes with a pitiful plan. One final heist, the old fire returns, One last stand, as the dumpster fire burns. [Chorus] Oh, Boot, Boot, the king of the night, Faded glory, gasping for the light. His wheezing a dirge, a raspy refrain, The mobster with nine lives, fading in pain. With a Yiddish lament, and a bluesy moan, His story unfolds, chilling to the bone.