Six Broken Soldiers

I don't care if you're sick

What can I possible do

with an American library

And a contact on you



Chorus:

I've got six broken soldiers

In the trunk of my car

Two of them speak

Four go to bars

Rods in the closet

A six-shooter in hand

A caged up gorilla

And three local bands



Fluently the parrot speaks

Six languages not know to man

A sixpence and a quarter

As the audience he scans



Chorus:

I've got six broken soldiers

In the trunk of my car

Two of them speak

Four go to bars

Rods in the closet

A six-shooter in hand

A caged up gorilla

And three local bands




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