Six Broken Soldiers

I don't care if you're sick
What can I possible do
with an American library
And a contact on you

Chorus:
I've got six broken soldiers
In the trunk of my car
Two of them speak
Four go to bars
Rods in the closet
A six-shooter in hand
A caged up gorilla
And three local bands

Fluently the parrot speaks
Six languages not know to man
A sixpence and a quarter
As the audience he scans

Chorus:
I've got six broken soldiers
In the trunk of my car
Two of them speak
Four go to bars
Rods in the closet
A six-shooter in hand
A caged up gorilla
And three local bands