I'll shake my hands across the seven seas
I'll summon up some strange things to see
And in the airport lounge
Guerilla war is getting down
In the hearts of the passing crowd
Fruits of death are passed around



And in the canyons of N.Y.
F ire power in the jungle
Mine is the gold, Park Avenue!
No one is innocent
In the world by storm



A storm is raging in every placid pool
And the words of poetry they break up every line
And the singer's voice
Is the grunt of an animal?
In the hearts of the passing crowd
Fruits of death are passed a around



I'd I like to teach the world to sing
But it taught me instead

I wrote this wing one day
On a Jumbo Jet
Screaming electricity
Sing it into my Black Box
In the hearts of the passing crowd
Fruits of death are passed around