If you kick them all out
'Cause they never fit in
Lashed to the mast or
Drunk on the past

And they sit at the taverns
With mail ordered brides
They sit at the taverns
With mail ordered brides
Who stand like flamingos

And maybe it's true that they're greedy
That's probably why everything's gone awry
And they couldn't be sure
That the whole world was pure
No they couldn't be sure
That the whole world was pure
And that heaven was just an ocean away

And maybe it's true
That the house was too big
You'll find oversized quarters
For your sons and your daughters
And sons will be stealin'
That red white and blue feeling
And daughters will be looking
At the ceiling or knealing
But there's a patriot born everyday

But what do you expect
When you put out with losers
Misfits and drifters
And battle ax losers and you give them a boat
And say here off you go
And don't you come back
Until I say so
Until I say so
Until I say so