Of all the treasure in our chest We love the golden god of war the best
Look, look at that little clown Here, look through the binoculars Someone burned his schoolhouse down And he's blinking in the sun He's drying something in the sun Ha! It's an old tea bag! Now he rolls it up Look! He made a cigarette But he's not gonna smoke it yet Maybe he's gonna sell it How much d'you think he'll get?
A slice of ham = a long goodbye = 3 days of peace A bar of soap = a can of oil = 10 years of debt A pinch of salt = a week of news = 4 double-A's A plastic bag = a place to hide = one sucker bet
I got what you want You got what I need
Of all the sterling men of steel We crave the one who'll teach us not to feel
Look at the guy selling beer Where the hell did he get it from? He's the King of the Hill He's the bug that survives the bomb See the smirk on his greasy face Handing a bottle to the mortal foe It's not the time to kill Not that he forgets . . . As he takes a crumpled bill And thinks this is better yet
A pot for the rain = a pair of shoes = 2 hand grenades A spade for the grave = four lovely eggs = 3 cigarettes A stick of gum = some wood for a fire = 2 table legs A cup of rice = a pint of blood = 1 pound of flesh
Line up to buy here Line up to die there
Look, look through that window Looks like your sister there In a Chetnik's bed Look, there on the table Looks like she did it for a loaf of bread Shit! She's got a knife! And he's snoring like a pig Is he worth more alive or dead? How much for his boots? How much for his head?
Though all the days and all the times We count the coin and stash away the crimes
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