He ain’t here for your revolution,
He’s only here for gold.
And he’ll take his pay,
On any day,
From any army in the fold.
He didn’t come ’cause he loves your company,
Didn’t come ’cause shared your views,
He didn’t come from a common vision,
He’s not following your muse.
He’s won’t stick to you through thick and thin,
He doesn’t have your back.
And if the funds run short, that bastard
Won’t take any flack.
If you think that you can trust him,
If you think he can win the war,
Try mentioning that there’s no pay,
And he’ll soon be out the door.
He’s a hired gun,
Takes his money and runs.
This war’s not his scene,
He’s just a killing machine.
He’ll only do what he finds easiest,
Easiest to still get paid.
And if someone is bleeding tired,
They won’t get in his way.
He won’t lift a hand to help you,
Not until he can see the cash.
He don’t care if you’ve gone win or lose,
If it won’t affect his stash.
If he can’t get paid fighting for your cause
He’s not sticking to your side.
He’ll take your gear, throw it on his horse
And sell it to the other side.
He doesn’t care if your families starve,
Doesn’t care if your families die.
If he sees there a buck to make,
There’ll be a sparkle in his eyes.
He’s a hired gun,
Takes his money and runs.
This war’s not his scene,
He’s just a killing machine.