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Country Joe McDonald
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The Munition Maker
I am the cannon king, behold! i perish on a throne of gold. with forest far and turret high, renowned and rajah-rich am i. my father was and his before, with wealth we owe to war on war; but let no potentate be proud... there are no pockets in a shroud. By nature i am mild and kind, to gentleness and ruth inclined; and though the pheasants over-run my woods, i will not touch a gun. yet while each monster that i forge thunders destruction from its gorge. death's whisper is, i vow, more loud... there are no pockets in a shroud. My time is short, my ships at sea already seem like ghosts to me 更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 my millions mock me, i am poor as any beggar at my door. my vast dominion i resign, six feet of earth to claim as mine, brooding with shoulders bid bitter-bowed ...there are no pockets in a shroud. Dear god, let me purge pure my heart, and be of heaven's hope a part! flinging my fortune's foul increase to fight for pity, love and peace. oh that i could with healing fare, and pledged to poverty and prayer cry high above the cringing crowd... 'ye fools! be not by mammon cowed... there are no pockets in a shroud.'
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