TATTOOED MILLIONAIRE SON OF A GUN Holy was the preacher riding on his rig of steel in the rising sun. This was no grim reaper - but a man with a smile who took a pride in a job well done. Ooh in a blood red sunrise he's preaching conversion, as you lay down and die. A God given holy roller in a God forsaken land, he didn't choose this killing ground, he didn't want this scrap of land. He's gonna search the earth and make the rivers run dry until we learn to hate like him to kill for killing - live to die. Ride on you son of a gun, ride on ride into the setting sun. You gotta be a hero for one last time to prove through your destruction killing is a great way of life. There's a wooden cross somewhere where they'll bury you down deep. You lie to your people - you lie to to yourself. You're in love with death - you've got no shame. The preacher laughed - the preacher cried, he loaded bullets as he smiled. The congregation sat and wondered would they live or would they die? Just an ordinary man - with his orders and his plans in the shadows of the cross. Ooh in a blood red sunrise take me to Jesus - with Judas my guide. Ride on you bleeding heart Ride on you played no part Ride on you feel no pity Ride on you feel no pain Ride into history TATTOOED MILLIONAIRE Tattooed boys with expensive toys living in a bubble of sin. Money can buy you most of anything, fix your nose or the mess you're in. Front pages news you can share your views with a population that wants to be like you. Out on the strip - out on the tiles, same old greed behind P.R. smiles. * You and all your entourage - to me you're all the same to me. You and all your entourage - playing foolish games. Chorus: I don't want your big city shining, I don't want your silver lining, I don't wanna be a tattooed millionaire. He's got a wife - she ain't no brain child, ex mud Queen of Miami. In his stretch cadillac he keeps her in the back with his CD player and his bottle of Jack. L.A. dude, L.A. attitude laid back selfish and getting fat. Body guards, porn stars, gold credit cards, using each other - running for cover. BORN IN 58 Born in mining town in 58 when black and white TV was up to date and men were still around who fought for freedom - stood their ground and died. That I could be alive and see the damage that we've managed since. In this sceptred Isle is nothing sacred - but the one square mile. * Justice and liberty, you can buy - but you don't get free. In a world of steel and glass we bury our past. ** On and on - we slept till dawn. When we awoke - we hardly spoke. My Grandfather taught me how to fight old fashioned stuff like wrong and right but all around I see his morals buried in a mess of money troubles. HELL ON WHEELS Devil's driving down the track. Hell on wheels they won't turn back. Engine racing down a one way street, speed chasing that red line heat. * Into the blackness, into the night, out of the tunnel into the light. Red for danger that's just for show, climb aboard come as you go. Chorus: Hard to steer when the devil's driving. Helens wheels and the brakes won't hold. Hard to steer when the devil's driving. Hell on wheels and the brakes won't hold. Too smart to come she just arrived, only gave her one but she's using five... Minutes of time in the usual place; if I was strapped in you could sit on my place. The doors were locked in windows sealed, hitting me with the jack was the devil's deal. Blue light flashing as the lipstick smudge. Dived for cover in a tunnel of glove. Something's driving me - I don't know where. Something down in my cellar somewhere. No one waiting for me down the line. No one waiting for me this time - check it out. Knuckle down stick shift take it slow. Easy come means easy go. Lay off the gas, make it last cos under my hood she's blowing fast. * GIPSY ROAD Living in the city can be a cold and lonely place to be. Living in the shadows where there's no sun, there's no breeze. Drinking stale water, having to pay for the privilege. Talk about freedom, I'll take you where I think it is. Chorus: Gypsy Road is the highway that I run to. Gypsy Road, welcome to your dreams. Living by my own rules, a rebel yell and a rebel creed. Keep your life simple, try not to take what you don't need. Think about freedom, dream a little everyday. Suddenly you'll find yourself there, follow me, walk this way. I'll find my dreams... You find your's too. DIVE! DIVE! DIVE! Put an opening shot across your bows. Got tunnel vision, pull the sheets in now. Let'em flap ooh let'em rip. This man o'war gonna sink your ship, gonna blow you mildships, gonna dive tonight. There's no release when you're deep down inside. * Dive, dive, dive (3 times) No muff too tuff, we dive at five. Davy Jones gonna keep your bones. No monkee business now you're on your own. Turn your stern and cover me. We're rolling swell of a seaman dog like me. Seaman Staines is down below, torpedoes loaded ready to go. Wait for discharge waiting to release as she rounded the horn we came up from below. ALL THE YOUNG DUDES Well Billy rapped all night about his suicide how he'd kick it in the head when he was 25. Speed jive, don't want to stay alive when you're 25. And Wendy's stealing clothes from Marks And Sparks, and Freddie's got spots from ripping off the stars from his fare... funky little boatrace. Television man is crazy saying we're juvenile delinquent wrecks. Oh man - I need TV? When I got T. Rex. Hey brother you guessed I'm a dude now. Billy's looking sweet cos he dresses like a queen but he can kick like a mule - it's a real mean team. But we can love, oh yes, we can love. And my fathers back at home with his Beatles and his Stones, he never got off on the revolution stuff, what a drag too many snags. Well I drink a lot of wine and I'm feeling fine, gonna raise some cat to bed. Oh man - is that concrete all around or is it in my head. Brother I'm a dude now... All the young dudes - carry the news. Boogaloo dudes - carry the news. LICKIN' THE GUN Lickin' the gun lickin' the hand that feeds you, lickin' the gun finger lickin' fun. Senator husband goin' for broke, I've gotta prove I'm not a joke. We smoked the stuff in '69. Now it's different, it's a crime. Kids today don't understand, kids today needs a guiding hand. I get a sticker if it rhymes with buck when the law suits fly I guess I'll duck. Watch religion come and go, watch corruption on their shows. Buy your silence money for blood, crazy men with Russian guns. My words never killed anyone. Kissing babies lickin' the gun, ain't political nah - just having fun. Eat it up lay down and die. They'll shoot you up and they don't know why they're doing a job and they enjoy it too, they're protecting us from me and you. We smoked the stuff in'69, now it's different, it's a crime. I don't care for wait and see if I'm cool enough to make history. ZULU LULU She fixed me in the corner with that beautiful brown eye. She said - I'd like to meet you. I was so surprised. She said -"What can I do for you?" - "What can you do for me?" - Well - we made for the exit - had to wait and see. "I hope I'm not wasting your precious time." I know you're not wasting mine. We came together over coffee with milk. She never stopped till every drop was split. * She was a Zulu Lulu , she broke my back and my heart at the same time. She was a Zulu Lulu, had to move on and when I came back she's gone. She dropped to her knees - I guess she had religion. She lived with her mother - had been a good girl twice. When I asked her to comment on her present position. She said - "I like to take a lay preacher's advice." I ain't looking for sympathy but prayers for the wicked are always nice. She said "I don't like to preach to the converted." I said "You can be a good girl more than twice." * I ain't looking for sympathy but prayers for the wicked are always nice. She looked me up and down and said "Assegai for me." I began to see God she said "Wait and see babe." NO LIES No lies, no angels, no Heaven. On a corner of a red light street where the dealers and the junkies and the graveyards meet by the light of the street light moon if you hang around here babe - you're leaving soon. On the run from the country from the law here's a safe place behind every front door. Wanna wander where the guide book doesn't go. Watching the windows - part of the sideshow. Where the money men's wallets bleed, where the fat cat winners fill their needs, where the vicar goes for his sin, where the stick up artist gets stuck in take a look round here its no big deal for an ounce of pleasure or a 5 minute feel. Riding sidesaddle on a rented machine, hang on loosely - part of the scene. Musos: Bruce Dickinson (Iron Maiden) - vocals Janick Gers (Iron Maiden) - guitars Andy Carr (3 Rivers) - bass Fabio Del Rio (Jagged Edge) - drums All songs written by Dickinson/Gers except "All The Young Dudes" by D. Bowie and "No Lies" by Dickinson. Produced, engineered by Chris "Mega" Tsangarides. Mixed by Nigel Green. Recorded and mixed at Battery Studios, London.
