A Blues for Buddha

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