I'm walking Uptown
I hear a most peculiar sound
Like a seashell in my ear
Like the ocean was near
I go inside this store
To get my head clear
Once I'm inside the air is fresh as [a lie?]
You are greeted by a civil servant
She is dressed in beads
She jots down your needs
And casually recedes
Look around
Take the elevator down
Take it down
Once you reach downstairs
They take special care of you
You cannot believe what you see
You know guns to stop time
Laid out in a line
445's to Uzi-3's
A man comes up in a uniform
He says, you were just who we were looking for
You heard the sound
Let me show you around
This place is big as some small towns
We got every gun beneath the sun
And the same for heavy munitions
We got the space to train
But we don't know you'll learn
But now take the time, just look around
Look around
Feel the water rushing down
Rushing down
Refrain:
But you better get ready
If you're going to Freddy's
If you're going to Freddy's store
You can lose or win
You can sink or swim
But you don't know where or what for
But you better get ready
If you're going to Freddy's
If you're going to Freddy's store
It's not exactly hell,
It's more like Bechtel
They got only one item to sell
There's a booth for dressing
Also used for confession
There's a Jesuit on call here
Twenty-four hours a day
He can guide you to pray
To waylay your modern guilt and fear
You live by the sword, you die, etcetera
And the same goes for an M-15
But what the hell
When Freddy rings that bell
Just make certain that your weapon is clean
And pointing down,
Down to the ground
Can you live in the tropics?
Can you fight on the sand?
Have you compunctions to function
in a far off land?
Can you kill a despot in an African nation?
Can you bite the pill
if the operation don't go down?
Down, if it don't go down
And there's a galley [. . . ?]
[. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ?]
We don't distinguish left or right
We make our own rules
We got lethal tools
Hey, let me show you this new bombing site
We don't need a recruit
We got such fancys to suit
You keep everything you can loot
All the spoils of war,
All those Gold Coast whores
Just don't ask about behind that door
You can stand on the corner
You can do the jerk
You can go to the disco
You can go berserk
But there are plenty of generals
And plenty of Shahs
Who drive a Coupe DeVille after the Coup de Etat
It's up to you,
You got one chance to score
Everybody gets a little piece of war
Just don't ask about behind that door
Hit the ground, get down
It's coming down
The door is coming down
