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