The circus is full of smoke After all these years Some were good, some were bad Didn't know what I was about to start When I started Though I wrote it all down God, I was so naive When you're on the show You've got to shoot not to sing When you're on the show You have to shoot not to sing Wasn't it worth anyway Twelve years Six were good Sis were bad Twenty thousand songs in my head And a toast to all the pimps in the world Here's to you Hey, hey, here's to you Till the last bullet’s fired Welcome, sweet needles of success Here's to you You’ve got to shoot not to sing Welcome, customers Whores I’ve still got my gun I’ve still got my gun Look, I point at you There's a shadow on the target Guess you call it future And the fingertip-orchestras sounded Like spirit rapping on the radio The day they sold the music For less than a soul To a full-playback-pop-music-teenage-hero Here's to you Sweet needles of success Welcome, customers, whores I’ve still got my gun Here's to you Till the last bullet’s fired I’ve still got some shots inside Welcome, sweet needles of success Take me home Take me home Oh, sweet needles of success Here I go Into the dry-ice fog