I'll shake my hands across the seven seas I'll summon up some strange things to see And in the airport lounge Guerilla war is getting down In the hearts of the passing crowd Fruits of death are passed around And in the canyons of N.Y. F ire power in the jungle Mine is the gold, Park Avenue! No one is innocent In the world by storm A storm is raging in every placid pool And the words of poetry they break up every line And the singer's voice Is the grunt of an animal? In the hearts of the passing crowd Fruits of death are passed a around I'd I like to teach the world to sing But it taught me instead I wrote this wing one day On a Jumbo Jet Screaming electricity Sing it into my Black Box In the hearts of the passing crowd Fruits of death are passed around