When I came back from Luang Prabang
I didn't have a thing where my balls used to hang,
But I got a wood medal and a fine harangue.
Now I'm a f**ing hero.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
And now the boys all envy me:
I fought for Christian Democracy
With nothing but air where my balls used to be.
Now I'm a f**ing hero
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
When one and twenty cannon thunder
Into the bloody wild blue yonder
For a patriotic ball-less wonder.
Now I'm a f**ing hero.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
In Luang Prabang there is a spot
Where the corpses of your brothers rot,
And every corpse is a patriot,
And every corpse is a hero.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.
Mourn your dead land of the free!
If you want to be a hero follow me.