MERCENARIES
by Harry Chapin

intro: Dsus D, Am G

 D                               F#m                   G
  It's a slow motion night in the hot city lights, past time
                          A
  when the good folks are snoring in bed.
       D                       F#m
  On a loose jointed cruise to recoler your blues, with
  Bm              A                    G    D A
  illegal notions alive, alive in your head.
          D                       F#m
  You are back from some war that you've been fighting for.
        G                          A
  Some old blue blood bastard in a dark pinstripe suit.
  D                                     F#m
  And the word from your loins has your mind in your
                  Bm
  groin. And your back pocket burning with
  A                   G   D D7
  blood. Blood, money loot.
          G                         F#m
  And you walk past the glow of the flicker picture show.
            Bm                      A
  Where the raincoat men wait for a child to come by
          G                           F#m
  And the women in door ways who have nothing to say
             Bm                      A                   G D A
  Cause your money is talking to the ones that you would try

She owns the block With the dead pawnshop clock
She's the answer to dreams That you pay to come true
She's got no heart of gold But that's not what she's sold
She just sees herself doing what she What she has to do

And she's all that you're hoping As her coat falls open
Give her bread she leads you To a bed on the floor
Where for ten million years And through ten billion tears
The armies of bootmen have marched Back from their wars

She's in that state of grace Before time finds her face
With a mind of old wisdoms And a body still young
And she tastes as sweet As a child's chocolate treat
Before the butts and the whiskey Had wasted the taste of your tongue

Play the music again Of the grey-stubble men
That groaning blue symphony Moans evermore
And you watch as she fakes it And of course you just take it
She's better than others You never paid money for

You've used up your booty The girl's done her duty
The turnstile has turned And you learn you are done
You're back on the street Joining fresh marching feet
You see more soldiers coming And your girl chooses one

And the medic has brought Shots for what you have caught
Your leave is all over You're back on the line
And the joke in the trenches Of the hot blooded wenches
And the next thing that you'll do When they next give you the tim.

And you're back in your army Back shedding red blood
And you dream of the girl As you sleep in the mud
And you know you'd swap with her If the deal could be made
'Cause you'd rather be working at love Love as your trade