Track 1 produced & Engineered by Chris Tsangarides. Mixed by Nigel Green.
Tracks 2 & 3 recorded live at The Astoria Theatre, London, June 1990.
Recorded and Engineered by Mick McKenna with The Rolling Stones Mobile.
Totally live mix by Doug Hall.

Born in '58
(Bruce Dickinson / Janick Gers)

Born in a mining town in ’58
When black and white T.V. was up to date
And men were still around
Who fought for freedom, stood their grounds and died
That I could be alive
And see the damage that we’ve managed since
In this sceptred isle
Is nothing sacred, but the one square mile

Justice and liberty
You can buy, but you don’t get free
In a world of steel and glass
We bury our past

On and on, we slept ‘til dawn
When we awoke, we hardly spoke

My grandfather taught me how to fight
Old fashion stuff like wrong and right
But all around I see his morals
Buried in a mess of money troubles
Born in a mining town in ’58
When black and white T.V. was up to date
And men were still around
Who fought for freedom, stood their grounds and died

Justice and liberty
You can buy, but you don’t get free
In a world of steel and glass
We bury our past

On and on, we slept ‘til dawn
When we awoke, we hardly spoke

On and on, we slept ‘til dawn
When we awoke, it was all the same

Tattooed Millionaire (live)
(Bruce Dickinson / Janick Gers)

Tattooed boys with expensive toys
Living in a bubble of sin
Money can buy you most of anything
Fix your nose or the mess you’re in

Front page news, you can share your views
With a population that wants to be like you
Out on the strip, out on the tiles
Same old greed behind the P.R. smiles

You and all your entourage, to me you’re all the same
You and all your entourage, playing foolish games

I don’t want your big city shining
I don’t want your silver lining
I don’t wanna be a tattooed millionaire

He’s got a wife, she ain’t no brain child
Ex mud Queen of Miami
In his stretch Cadillac, he keeps her in the back
With a CD player and his bottle of Jack

L.A. dudes, L.A. attitude
Laid back selfish and getting fat
Bodyguards, porn stars, gold credit cards
Using each other, running for cover

You and all your entourage, to me you’re all the same
You and all your entourage, playing foolish games

I don’t want your big city shining
I don’t want your silver lining
I don’t wanna be a tattooed millionaire

Son of a Gun (live)
(Bruce Dickinson / Janick Gers)

Holy was the preacher
Riding on his rig of steel in the rising sun
This was no grim reaper
But a man with a smile

Who took a pride in a job well done
In a blood red sunrise
He’s preaching conversion
As you lay down and die

A God given holy roller
In a God forsaken land
He didn’t choose this killing ground
He didn’t want this scrap of land

He’s gonna scorch the earth
And make the river run dry
Until we learn to hate like him
To kill for killing, live to die

Ride on, you son of a gun
Ride on, ride into the setting sun

You gotta be a hero
For one last time
To prove through your destruction
Killing is a great way of life

There’s a wooden cross somewhere
Where they’ll bury you down deep
You lie to your people, you lie to yourself
You’re in love with death, you’ve got to shame

The preacher laughed, the preacher cried
He loaded bullets as he smiled
The congregation sat and wondered
Would they live or would they die?

Just an ordinary man with his orders and his plans
In the shadows of a cross
In a blood red sunshine
Take me to Jesus, with Judas as my guide

Ride on, you son of a gun
Ride on, ride into the setting sun

Ride on, you bleeding heart
Ride on, you played no part
Ride on, you feel no pity
Ride on, you feel no pain
Ride into history...