But...
They're pickin' up the prisoners
And puttin em in a pen
And all
Rebels been rebels
Since I don't know when
And all
Molotov cocktail the local drink
And all
They mix 'em up right
In the kitchen sink
And all
Crazy people walkin round with blood in their eyes
And all
Wild-eyed pistols wavers who ain't afraid to die
And all
And make romance - you bet.
She can't feel the heat
Comin off the street
She wants to party
She wants to get down
All
All
Well the government bugged the men's room
In the local disco lounge
And all
To keep the boys from sellin
All the weapons they could scrounge
And all
But that don't keep the boys from makin a buck or two
And all
The still can sell the army
All the drugs that they can do
And all
All
And make romance - you bet
Well we barely make the airport
For the test plane out
As we taxied down the runway
I could hear the people shout
The said, "don't come back here Yankee"
But if I ever do
I'll bring more money
And make romance
Never mind the heat
Comin off the street
She wants to party
She wants to get down
All she wants to do is
All she wants to do is dance
And make romance
All she wants to do is dance
All I want to do is blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Mysterious and anonymous comments as well as those laced with cyanide and ad hominen attacks will be deleted. Thank you for your attention, chumps.