The soup, the soup, the soup, the soup... The soup was hot and split pea and on the stove And michael and marry and bugsy and buster were occupied The pictures as clear as an illusion in their mind And the plan was foolproof but there was so much to do First they'd decide who'd drive the car, who'd wear the masks and who'd bribe the cops Then they'd decide what were the rules, when do shoot and when do you hold back They'd synchronize their watches and their heartbeats and their ribcages This can't be a mess, this can't be a mess... Nobody knows how it comes to be that they think that they must and they do what they can But the cops are right there and the sirens they blare and the bystarers stare and everyone just stands Bugsy went down first, then marry, then michael drove off and buster just ran He was running like a child running in a game of tag Until he was hit, until he was it...
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