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