| With the green traffic light
|
| On the wet shiny street
|
| Hair looking like spilled crème de menthe
|
| She stood framed by the night
|
| A statue in white outside the blazing casino
|
| And there stood I the complete anti hero
|
| There stood I brilliantly alone
|
| In Beirut that night gun shots cracked the heat
|
| From Dan to Beshebaar with the passions running high
|
| Many men willing to die
|
| Now ran across the Middle East
|
| And she was born a child of the Medina
|
| Knowing well the back streets of the Lebanon
|
| And Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut
|
| From the burning hotels to the Christian citadels
|
| Or to the Palestinian line
|
| We were hunted like beast
|
| Through the blood hungry feast
|
| And by the men from Damascus
|
| And all I wanted was my fifty thousand
|
| Got caught up in a tragic civil war
|
| And I’ve been shot in the arm by some jumpie Jean Damme
|
| Mistaken for a terrorist
|
| And she ran to my side
|
| Shouting «God will provide»
|
| They gave me a white Mercedes
|
| I said, «What has happened to my fifty thousand?»
|
| She smiled in the back seat of this very car
|
| And Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut
|
| And Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut crumbling stone by stone
|
| Beirut
|
| With the green traffic light on the wet shiny street
|
| Hair looking like spilled crème de menthe
|
| She stood framed by the night
|
| A statue in white outside the blazing casino
|
| And there stood I the complete anti hero
|
| And there stood I brilliantly alone |