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.