Lyrics

We're running guns to a holy war For soldiers of the soul Where right and wrong come apart at the seams And fear is on patrol In the mad, mad world of a lost newsreel Little children sing A blues for Buddha, Buddha The dollar is our king A blues for Buddha, Buddha The dollar is our king The dollar is our king We're making friends with a foreign power Through telescopic sights A quiet cocktail during Happy Hour For the exploitation rights In a mad, mad world of a lost newsreel Teach our kids to sing A blues for Buddha, Buddha The dollar is our king A blues for Buddha, Buddha The dollar is our king The dollar is our king The dollar is our king