I count the corpses on my left, I find I'm not so tidy
|
So I better get away, better make it today
|
I've cut twenty-three down since Friday
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But I can't control it, my face is drawn
|
My instinct still emotes it
|
|
I slash them cold, I kill them dead
|
I broke the gooks, I cracked their heads
|
I'll bomb them out from under the beds
|
But now I've got the running gun blues
|
|
It seems the peacefuls stopped the war
|
Left generals squashed and stifled
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But I'll slip out again tonight
|
Cause they haven't taken back my rifle
|
For I promote oblivion
|
And I'll plug a few civilians
|
|
I'll slash them cold, I'll kill them dead
|
I'll break them gooks, I'll crack their heads
|
I'll slice them till they're running red
|
But now I've got the running gun blues
|
|
-----------------
|
Running Gun Blues
|
| David Bowie |
