| When the sleigh is heavy
|
| And the timber wolves are getting bold
|
| You look at you companions
|
| And test the water of their friendship
|
| With your toe
|
| They significantly edge
|
| Closer to the gold
|
| Each man has his price Bob
|
| And yours was pretty low
|
| History is short, the sun is just a minor star
|
| The poor man sells his kidneys
|
| In some colonial bazaar
|
| Ce sera sera
|
| Is that your new Ferrari car
|
| Nice, but I think I’ll wait for the F50
|
| You don’t have to be a Jew
|
| To disapprove of murder
|
| Tears burn my eyes
|
| Moslem or Christian Mullah or Pope
|
| Preacher or poet who was it wrote
|
| Give any one species too much rope
|
| And they’ll fuck it up And last night on TV
|
| A Vietnam vet
|
| Takes his beard and his pain
|
| And his alienation twenty years
|
| Back to Asia again
|
| Sees the monsters they made
|
| In formaldehyde floating 'round
|
| Meets a gook on a bike
|
| A good little tyke
|
| With the same soldier’s eyes
|
| Tears burn my eyes
|
| What does it mean
|
| This tearjerking scene
|
| Beamed into my home
|
| That it moves me so much
|
| Why all the fuss
|
| It’s only two humans being
|
| It’s only two humans being
|
| Tears burn my eyes
|
| What does it mean
|
| This tender TV
|
| This tearjerking scene
|
| Beamed into my home
|
| You don’t have to be a Jew
|
| To disapprove of murder
|
| Tears burn in our eyes
|
| Moslem or Christian Mullah or Pope
|
| Preacher or poet who was it wrote
|
| Give any one species too much rope
|
| And they’ll fuck it up |