Send in the choppers Bring down the axe Here comes Agent Orange With his mortar attacks Void of any conscience Wiped out from the start Never find compassion In his purple heart
Oh oh This move is obscene I don't feel part of This killing culture Oh oh The glassy eyes that I've seen I won't be entertained By this ultramarine
Liberation comes In jeans and coca-cola Liberty this bullet's Got your name on it You make the films And you're making history Napalm-burger-bars Popcorn victory
Oh oh This move is obscene I don't feel part of This killing culture Oh oh Here's punishment for your dreams I won't be entertained By this ultramarine
Oh oh I don't feel part of This killing culture Oh oh I'm afraid, I'm repulsed By this ultramarine
The year is 1963 I'm 6 years old A monk in some far off land Dowses himself in petrol And strikes a match I'm watching television A black silhouette Engulfed in white flame Still moving after what seems A very long time Burning Buddha The room is filled with blue light We change channels And watch a James Cagney movie Marching soldiers singing "Over there over there..."