Tuzla Lyrics - Joe Jackson

Of all the treasure in our chest 

We love the golden god of war the best 

Look, look at that little clown 

Here, look through the binoculars 

Someone burned his schoolhouse down 

And he's blinking in the sun 

He's drying something in the sun 

Ha! It's an old tea bag! 

Now he rolls it up 

Look! He made a cigarette 

But he's not gonna smoke it yet 

Maybe he's gonna sell it 

How much d'you think he'll get? 

A slice of ham = a long goodbye = three days of peace 

A bar of soap = a can of oil = ten years of debt 

A pinch of salt = a week of news = four double-A's 

A plastic bag = a place to hide = one sucker bet 

I got what you want 

You got what I need 

Of all the sterling men of steel 

We crave the one who'll teach us not to feel 

Look at the guy selling beer 

Where the hell did he get it from? 

He's the King of the Hill 

He's the bug that survives the bomb 

See the smirk on his greasy face 

Handing a bottle to the mortal foe 

It's not the time to kill 

Not that he forgets 

As he takes a crumpled bill 

And thinks this is better yet 

A pot for the rain = a pair of shoes = two hand grenades 

A spade for the grave = four lovely eggs = three cigarettes 

A stick of gum = some wood for a fire = two table legs 

A cup of rice = a pint of blood = one pound of flesh 

Line up to buy here 

Line up to die there 

Look, look through that window 

Looks like your sister there 

In a Chetnik's bed 

Look, there on the table 

Looks like she did it for a loaf of bread 

Shit! She's got a knife! 

And he's snoring like a pig 

Is he worth more alive or dead? 

How much for his boots? 

How much for his head? 

Though all the days and all the times 

We count the coin and stash away the crimes