He looked a lot like Ché Guevara;
drove a diesel van
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion;
such a humble man
The only survivor
of the National People's Gang

Panic in Detroit;
I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home;
I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit

He laughed at accidental sirens
that broke the evening gloom
The police had warned of repercussions
They followed none too soon
A trickle of strangers
were all that were left alive

Putting on some clothes,
I made my way to school
And I found my teacher
crouching in his overalls
I screamed and ran
to smash my favourite slot machine
And jumped the silent cars
that slept at traffic lights

Having scored a trillion dollars;
made a run back home
Found him slumped across the table;
a gun and me alone
I ran to the window;
looked for a plane or two.

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