| 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
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| My instinct still emotes it I slash them cold, I kill them dead
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| I broke the gooks, I cracked their heads
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| I’ll bomb them out from under the beds
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| But now I’ve got the running gun blues
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| It seems the peacefuls stopped the war
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| Left generals squashed and stifled
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| But I’ll slip out again tonight
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| Cause they haven’t taken back my rifle
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| For I promote oblivion
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| And I’ll plug a few civilians
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| 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 |