| Roaring thunder’s raging
|
| Our captain takes command
|
| He’s drunken like a madman
|
| The pilot sights the land
|
| He slobbers like a toddler: «Full stream ahead»
|
| The tanker runs aground the cliff
|
| And thousand square miles are dead
|
| He’s hungry for adventure
|
| He’s longing for a kick
|
| He saw these things on TV
|
| And takes his hockey stick
|
| Tonight he’ll have his crime time
|
| He walks the streets at night
|
| Some people even saw the fight
|
| But ran away to hide
|
| The mighty men of power
|
| They meet on floor nineteen
|
| They are the old white yuppies on dope
|
| Their faces cruel and mean
|
| They would stick at nothing
|
| They merely hunt for cash
|
| They play roulette with our lifes
|
| For them we’re only trash
|
| I’m fallin' fallin'
|
| I hear them callin'
|
| Straight ahead
|
| Straight ahead into disaster
|
| Money talks
|
| Bullshit’s walking fast and faster
|
| Straight ahead
|
| Straight ahead into confusion
|
| Money talks |