Harry Chapin - Mercenaries Lyrics
It's a slow motion nightIn the hot city lightsPast time when the good folksAre snoring in bedOn a loose-jointed cruiseTo recolor your bluesWith illegal notions alive,Alive in your headYou are back from some warThat you've been fighting forSome old blue blood bastardIn a dark pinstripe suitand the word from your loinsHas your mind in your groinAnd your back pocket burning with bloodBlood money lootSo, you walk past the glowOf the flicker-picture showsWhere the raincoat men waitFor a child to come byAnd the women in doorwaysWho have nothing to say'Cause your money is talkingTo the ones that you would tryShe owns the blockWith the dead pawnshop clockShe's the answer to dreamsThat you pay to come trueShe's got no heart of goldBut that's not what she's soldShe just sees herself doing what sheWhat she has to doAnd she's all that you're hopingAs her coat falls openGive her bread she leads youTo a bed on the floorWhere for ten million yearsAnd through ten billion tearsThe armies of bootmen have marchedBack from their warsShe's in that state of graceBefore time finds her faceWith a mind of old wisdomsAnd a body still youngAnd she tastes as sweetAs a child's chocolateBefore the butts and the whiskeyHad wasted the taste of your tonguePlay the music againOf the grey-stubble menThat groaning blue symphonyMoans evermoreAnd you watch as she fakes itAnd of course you just take itShe's better than othersYou never paid money forYou've used up your booty-aca
