The Holdup ("Dead Version")

Stick up your hands, you must stand and deliver

My stomach's empty, my clothes are all torn

Open your hearts to the joys of the giver

Only your pockets are terribly worn

This is a holdup, no way to mistake it

We're men of violence so don't fool around

If you have money we're going to take it

Try and stop us, you'll end underground

When we get your money

We'll ride towards the sunset

At Rosa's Canteen we'll stop at the door

We'll spend all your money

Just getting the nose wet

Tomorrow evening we'll be back for more

So hand us the money, don't stand there and shiver

Tax time is coming, give alms to the poor

Or I'll put a bullet right through your best liver

Wealth is disease and I am the cure

When we get your money

We'll ride towards the sunset

At Rosa's Canteen we'll stop at the door

We'll spend all your money

Just getting the nose wet

Tomorrow evening we'll be back for more

So hand us the money, don't stand there and shiver

Tax time is coming, give alms to the poor

Or I'll put a bullet right through your best liver

Wealth is disease and I am the cure