Dangerous Machine

There were six black Cadillacs
Rolling through the night without a sound
Headed for the walled estate
On a hill, overlooking shantytown
Somebody riding shotgun
Someone watching carefully
With a briefcase full of sorrow
On its way to you and me
It’s a world of trouble
It’s an old routine
It’s a world of trouble
It’s a dangerous machine
There were six saints kneeling
In a bombed-out church with no roof
When it all came down
Somehow they were bulletproof
Yeah six saints kneeling
In a hurricane
In a world on fire
In a burning rain
It’s a world of trouble
It’s an old routine
It’s a world of trouble
It’s a dangerous machine
It’s a world of trouble
It’s an old routine
Such a world of trouble
It’s a dangerous machine
It’s a dangerous, dangerous machine