For every paper tiger roars
It’s never fear that makes me red
By my own knife my guts will pour

While every movement has a core
An outside axel turns the head
For every paper tiger roars

Though most will answer calls of war
The boots on most will be of lead
By my own knife my guts will pour

If ships depend on every oar
By spoon the sailors will be fed
For every paper tiger roars

And I myself betray the lore
But should I perish that I’ll shed
By my own knife my guts will pour

The world is helpless so therefore
The thought of it shall leave my head
For every paper tiger roars
By my own knife my guts will pour