Lyrics

In the town of Bolton, where the rain don’t shine,
There’s a man named Mike with a twisted mind.
He don't drive, no, he just calls a ride,
But when he gets in, no one gets out alive.

Ooh, Mike the Bolton Strangler,
Hitchin’ rides with deadly anger.
He say, “One stop please,” then he leans in slow,
By the next red light, the driver don’t go.

He wear a parka and a crooked smile,
Sits in the backseat, silent for a while.
Then out come the gloves and the strangler's grip,
Squeezin' tight while they makin’ that trip.

Why you do it, Mike? Why the Uber life?
Couldn’t just walk, couldn't settle your strife?
The meter’s tickin’, but the breath runs out,
Another silent scream, another quiet shout.

Yeah, Mike the Bolton Strangler,
Cruisin’ streets like a midnight banger.
He don’t talk much, just lets 'em choke,
Leaves the car rollin’ in a cloud of smoke.

Now the streets be buzzin’, fear in the air,
Every cabbie in town got a deathly stare.
But Mike still rides with a casual tone,
"Take me home," he says, in that gravelly drone.

So if you drive near Bolton way,
Better check that app and maybe pray.
‘Cause Mike might hail with a five-star rate,
But his rides always end at the Pearly Gate...

Mike the Bolton Strangler...
Strikes again — a silent handler.
A deadly fare in the midnight rain,
And no one gets to drive again...