oh god of hell i said i love the suit that the devil gave me to wear to beirut where the whores are dancing on the table tops and the juke box plays apocalyptic bebop well i love paris i love the dizzy streets where the flowers of sin bloom in the heat if i were a ghost id be pleased living among these french mysteries but the place to gos another latitude where jesus is wearing his blue suede shoes and the pink neon lights up the thoroughfares between what is and whats not there you know the place its not too far away lets take a trip to the home of the brave forget about london forget about spain get out of new york take the train to the plane hong kong smells like dying fish and berlin still stinks of auschwitz i wanna go where the wild things play i wanna go to the home of the brave somebody meet me at the airport at about half past ten tell jose nikita and all the boys down in the bunker marc campbell is coming home again