Текст: Transplants. Haunted Cities. American Guns.

30 ought, buck shot
12 gage, is sure shot
American guns, American guns

30 ought, buck shot
12 gage, is sure shot
American guns, American guns

Well, drop more than two million tons
Ho Chi Minh's trail was sprayed with bombs
Jungles of Laos, knew all along
That the American war had finally come

America, land of the free
They're all minions of democracy
Debauchery, luxury
Bacchanalia's alright to me

30 ought, buck shot
12 gage, is sure shot
American guns, American guns

30 ought, buck shot
12 gage, is sure shot
American guns, American guns

Nah, I won't listen because I've only been lied to
I got a few common enemies and still I despise you
It's a, cold mission, they pull up beside you
In your own territory, it's leaves something inside you

A wise man once told me, "People are strange"
I'm a stranger in a strange land, strange as the days
Yeah, I'm nice with the grouping, I'll stay at the range
38 to the 40 cal, A to the K

30 ought, buck shot
12 gage, is sure shot
American guns, American guns

30 ought, buck shot
12 gage, is sure shot
American guns, American guns