Live From The Russian Compound

Cowboy lawman-found a cell
Tore into it-as night fell
Bankers kids are
Getting bingo’d
Smells like midnight’s
Cooked up a storm in here
Leave those loose lips
At home or at the
Rubble that’s left
When you return
Have an armed guard posted at your flag
Stroll through town with
A gun stuffed in your pants
Bankers kids are
Getting bingo’d
Smells like midnight’s
Cooked up a storm in here
Leave those loose lips
At home or at the
Rubble that’s left
When you return
Criminal lawman-found a cell
Tore into it-made life hell
Bombs bursting-houses burning
Diplomacy’s tyrant treats