Well it's hot outside - must be a hundred and ten in the shade
There's an old man leaning on a fence post shining his blade
Shouting out orders at the top of his lungs, chopping off the heads of the midnight bums
Buffing his brass bars, ever shining...
Well... there's fire in the sky and there's blood on the ground
Watching the young boys fall down - one by one in the dirt - soldiers bleeding
So, what you gonna do when there's nobody left around?
And who you gonna tell what to do when everybody's checked out?
Well, you're three miles up in the air and getting' ready to fall
There's an bald man sittin' by the window singing out the roll call
The door opens and then, he shouts out the order again
And you're hangin' like a Khamsin warrior trying to do it again!
So, what you gonna do when there's nobody left around?
And who you gonna tell what to do when everybody's checked out?
You need a marching band, using everybody you can
Scratching your way to the top - Mr. Authority Man
So, what you gonna do when there's nobody left around?
And who you gonna tell what to do when everybody's checked out?
You need a marching band, using everybody you can
Killing your way to the top - Mr. Authority Man

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