Sky fractures, blue light bleeds,
Gravity shudders, obeys no creeds.
Tainted creatures cry unseen,
Bandits will gut you just to be mean.
But ain't the Zone that's gonna kill me,
It’s this dry ramen and lukewarm tea.

[Chorus]
We're missin' the pot. Oh, we're missin' the pot.
Got the flavor, got the fire, but the pot we just ain't got.
Hunger's bitin', we're plightin', but all is for naught.
'Cause we're missin' the pot.

We got noodles, taters 'n the red meat,
Mushrooms round and smellin' sweet.
Got fresh eggs and spices so hot,
Whole damn feast, but no cookin' pot.
All the makings of a royal spread,
But can't eat a thing, so we sing instead.

[Chorus]

Tried cookin' in an empty beer can,
Helmet for a kettle, hubcap for a pan.
Everything just warped and split,
All we got was smoke and grit.
I'd trade my boots, my rifle too,
For one tin pot and a ladle or two.

Stomach's preachin' 'bout broken trust.
I'll search the whole Zone if I must,
Gonna risk my neck and all I've got,
For the one dang pot that we forgot.

[Chorus]

Now listen, drifter, take it from me,
Zone's full of threats of any degree.
Bring flares, ammo and a map if you ought,
But don't you forget your cookin' pot.