If you're looking for the glory You think that you might find In a bullet-riddled stolen car On a back road in the pines If it's round just like a medal On a tired old man of the war Or hidden like that Burma Star In my dad's bottom drawer Look at you in your monkey suit Driving south, nothing left to prove You come back here in your cowboy boots Dressed to kill in your monkey suit Every pose you strike Every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill In your monkey suit Build your ladder to the moon And beat on that sacred drum Trample on the hands of those That cling to every rung Every seed you crush beneath Like stone ground in a mill And you never drew a decent breath But you're just dressed to kill Well, look at you in your monkey suit Driving south, nothing left to prove You come back here in your cowboy boots Dressed to kill in your monkey suit Every pose you strike Every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill In your monkey suit Look at you in your monkey suit Driving south, nothing left to prove You come back here in your cowboy boots Dressed to kill in your monkey suit Every pose you strike Every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill In your monkey suit Every pose you strike Every frame they shoot Shows you dressed to kill In your monkey suit Monkey suit Monkey suit Monkey suit