If you're looking for the glory

You think that you might find

In a bullet-riddled stolen car

On a back road in the pines

If it's round just like a medal

On a tired old man of war

Or hidden like that Burma Star

In my dad's bottom drawer



Look at you in your monkey suit

Driving south, nothing left to prove

You come back here in your cowboy boots

Dressed to kill in your monkey suit

Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot

Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit



Build your ladder to the moon

Beat on that sacred drum

Trample on the hands of those

That cling to every rung

Every seed you crush beneath

Like stone ground in a mill

You never drew a decent breath

But you're just dressed to kill



Look at you in your monkey suit

Driving south, nothing left to prove

You come back here in your cowboy boots

Dressed to kill in your monkey suit

Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot

Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit



Look at you in your monkey suit

Driving south, nothing left to prove

You come back here in your cowboy boots

Dressed to kill in your monkey suit

Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot

Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit