If you're looking for the glory You think that you might find In a bullet-riddled stolen car On a back road in the pines If it's round just like a medal On a tired old man of war Or hidden like that Burma Star In my dad's bottom drawer
Look at you in your monkey suit Driving south, nothing left to prove You come back here in your cowboy boots Dressed to kill in your monkey suit Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit
Build your ladder to the moon Beat on that sacred drum Trample on the hands of those That cling to every rung Every seed you crush beneath Like stone ground in a mill You never drew a decent breath But you're just dressed to kill
Look at you in your monkey suit Driving south, nothing left to prove You come back here in your cowboy boots Dressed to kill in your monkey suit Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit
Look at you in your monkey suit Driving south, nothing left to prove You come back here in your cowboy boots Dressed to kill in your monkey suit Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit
