Sacred Cowboys Lyrics

Song	Sacred Cowboys
Artist	Bruce Dickinson
Album	Balls to Picasso
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作曲 : Dickinson, Z
	(woo, hey)
	Mira, mira, mira, andale, andale, yeah-ow!
	[Spoken：]
	With a sense of irony, everyone you see
	Is chasing their illusions
	Take a dive, or sink, or swim
	But in the end you're in the same pollution
	In your world, escape is swift
	The nonsense list is all you need to know
	In the land of dreams, you make the right connections
	Then you'll be the hero...ecstasy
	The cult of 'me' provides our institutions
	You can live forever with a grave that stands
	Where people used to function
	You can join the saviors of our culture
	Vultures circling overhead my sky
	Like the sin of gluttony won't set you free
	(But Betty Ford can help you try)
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	But where is our John Wayne?
	Where's our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There's no Indians left to kill
	[Spoken:]
	People die with oxygen
	And all their money can't afford a breath
	People starving everywhere
	And staring in the face of death
	Prostitutes and politicians
	Lying in their bed together
	You can be the savior of the poor
	Making up the policies to open up the back door...
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where's our sacred cowboys now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There's no Indians left to kill
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where's our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There's no Indians left to kill
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	Eat it
	There is no John Wayne
	Where's our sacred cowboys now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There's no Indians left to kill
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where's our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There's no Indians left to...
	Kill

	zuo qu : Dickinson, Z
	woo, hey
	Mira, mira, mira, andale, andale, yeahow!
	Spoken:
	With a sense of irony, everyone you see
	Is chasing their illusions
	Take a dive, or sink, or swim
	But in the end you' re in the same pollution
	In your world, escape is swift
	The nonsense list is all you need to know
	In the land of dreams, you make the right connections
	Then you' ll be the hero... ecstasy
	The cult of ' me' provides our institutions
	You can live forever with a grave that stands
	Where people used to function
	You can join the saviors of our culture
	Vultures circling overhead my sky
	Like the sin of gluttony won' t set you free
	But Betty Ford can help you try
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	But where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	Spoken:
	People die with oxygen
	And all their money can' t afford a breath
	People starving everywhere
	And staring in the face of death
	Prostitutes and politicians
	Lying in their bed together
	You can be the savior of the poor
	Making up the policies to open up the back door...
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboys now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	Eat it
	There is no John Wayne
	Where' s our sacred cowboys now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to...
	Kill

	zuò qǔ : Dickinson, Z
	woo, hey
	Mira, mira, mira, andale, andale, yeahow!
	Spoken:
	With a sense of irony, everyone you see
	Is chasing their illusions
	Take a dive, or sink, or swim
	But in the end you' re in the same pollution
	In your world, escape is swift
	The nonsense list is all you need to know
	In the land of dreams, you make the right connections
	Then you' ll be the hero... ecstasy
	The cult of ' me' provides our institutions
	You can live forever with a grave that stands
	Where people used to function
	You can join the saviors of our culture
	Vultures circling overhead my sky
	Like the sin of gluttony won' t set you free
	But Betty Ford can help you try
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	But where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	Spoken:
	People die with oxygen
	And all their money can' t afford a breath
	People starving everywhere
	And staring in the face of death
	Prostitutes and politicians
	Lying in their bed together
	You can be the savior of the poor
	Making up the policies to open up the back door...
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboys now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	You can get all the things you never needed
	You can sell people crap and make them eat it
	Eat it
	There is no John Wayne
	Where' s our sacred cowboys now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to kill
	Where is our John Wayne?
	Where' s our sacred cowboy now?
	Where are the Indians on the hill?
	There' s no Indians left to...
	Kill

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