Tiny people, with little guns.
Little armies march, to little drums.
What do they want?
What do they want?

Tiny soldiers, with little guns.
Little tanks, no bigger than your thumb.
They want you.

Little people, with tiny brains.
Little bullets flowing, in their veins.
What do they want?
What do they want?

Little airplanes, with tiny bombs.
Little squadrons, dropping thimbles of Napalm.
They want you, you.
You, you, you, you!

Tiny people, with little guns.
Little armies march, to little drums.
What do they want?
What do they want?

Tiny soldiers, with little guns.
Little tanks, no bigger than your thumb.
They want you, you.
You, you, you, you!

Tiny people, little guns.
Tiny people, little guns.
Tiny people, little guns.

See also:
JustSomeLyrics
32
32.37
Bobby Comstock Let's Stomp Lyrics
Memento Mori Under My Blackened Sky Lyrics