Friday Jukebox 2: Gasoline on the Killing Fields Edition

Left, right, left right left

Pack 'em up Charlie, gonna leave this place
Turn our shoulders to the empty space.
It don't matter if you're gone today
Long as everybody stay away.
Rich is rich and poor is poor.
And the money you had ain't good no more.
Wait in a line, wait in a line,
Hey mister, can I buy a little time?

Everything you planted is gone to rot.
No one around to pull the little you got.
Four big wheels, American steel,
Pour gasoline on the killing field.

March them soldiers down that line.
March them boys in straight time.
Good for boys like fuel on the fire,
Bad news comin' down the eggbeat wire.
Dance and turn til your fingers burn.
What, if anything, did you earn?
Pain, it tastes like a savage fire.
The blood lust of the youth gone wild.

Everything you planted is gone to rot.
No one around to pull the little you got.
Four big wheels, American steel,
Pour gasoline on the killing field.

Everybody's sick, there's a fever going around.
Set it on fire and burn the whole thing down.
Go somewhere, he's gonna do time,
Where nobody has to hear that terrible sound.

Everything you planted is gone to rot.
No one around to pull the little you got.
Four big wheels, American steel,
Pourin' gasoline on the killing field.
Pourin' gasoline on the killing field.
Pourin' gasoline on the killing field.

Just in case you weren't in the mood for Japanese techno-pop...