| Coming through the mitrailleuse
|
| A Howitzer cannon and a Thompson gun
|
| Oh you’re a slovenly bunch
|
| Lousy with sin
|
| You’re no better than those altruists
|
| And the eagle scouts you belong
|
| With the haemophiliacs
|
| Out on the front line
|
| Out on the front line…
|
| We’ve got the straw in the wind
|
| To fill your belly with buckshot
|
| It’s a minor detail
|
| That we furbished with white-out
|
| You want something concrete
|
| But your city is sinking,
|
| It was built on sand
|
| You should have planned ahead
|
| Oh leave it up to the Lindberghs and the Metal Birds
|
| Leave it up to the Lindberghs and the Metal Birds
|
| Leave it up to the Lindberghs and the Metal Birds
|
| Keep your head out of the clouds
|
| Coming down, your victory towers
|
| The sepals to the citadel have been hulled with flames
|
| Oh you’ve been unveiled
|
| The manifest is writ with dread
|
| And you’re no better than those altruists
|
| And eagle scouts you belong
|
| With the convalescents who couldn’t make it on the front line
|
| Out on the front line
|
| Out on the front line…
|
| We’ve got the straw in the wind
|
| To fill your belly with buckshot
|
| It’s a minor detail
|
| That we furbished with white-out
|
| And you want something concrete
|
| But your city is sinking,
|
| It was built on sand
|
| You should have planned ahead
|
| Oh leave it up to the Lindberghs and the Metal Birds
|
| Leave it up to the Lindberghs and the Metal Birds
|
| Leave it up to the Lindberghs and the Metal Birds
|
| And keep, keep, keep, keep your head out of the clouds |