
Colossal memories of blackened guns stained with the souls of moaning men.
Nothing more, nothing less...
The last kill of the cowboy
That's what I once was, a cold-blooded son of a bitch and pulling the trigger wasn't difficult when you where numb to everything becuase of the whisky, the drink that made you loose any attachment to humanity, people asked, "Why did you do it?" I draw my gun, put it in front of there faces and say "Because she died", sometimes the only way people understand is looking through the barrel of a gun.
Now I'm old, my bones hurt and I can barely hold a gun, time passed and I wasted my only chance of love when she died by a disease. I was too busy getting drunk to ever notice that she loved me and I hated it her for it. When she passed away was like being drunk without the licor, it was a fucking whirlwind of emotions and everything was like in a nightmare, I fell to my knees and everythign went to fucking hell, after that i lost my mind not knowing why i decided to raise fuckign hades everywhere I went, it was the only way to deal with my regret.
Now I stand at the edge of my life, I was a bastard all my life and I'm still alive, What kind of divine fucking justice is this? I've waited all my life for some kid wanting revenge, but no, I'm lucky if someone looks at me in a threatening way.

I get my old gun, load one bullet to the chamber, cock the gun, and sit down...
Sometimes the only way people understand is looking through the barrel of a gun
...I'm too old for this shit
Now I stand at the edge of my life, I was a bastard all my life and I'm still alive, What kind of divine fucking justice is this? I've waited all my life for some kid wanting revenge, but no, I'm lucky if someone looks at me in a threatening way.

I get my old gun, load one bullet to the chamber, cock the gun, and sit down...
Sometimes the only way people understand is looking through the barrel of a gun
...I'm too old for this shit



