Son Of A Gun

And scooping up lots of wine There was once a boy of life Who lived upon a knife He took his share of everywhere But he never took a wife... He was born to live like a mercenary Well personally I think that's fine If you're in the right mind He was burned by the twentieth century Now he's doing time In the back of his mind He can hear them outside Better run, Rabbit run Run into the sun Kick your heels in the killing fields Run rabbit run You're a son of a gun