Up on my side, where it is felt
I pack a little pistol on my pistol belt
I think it might be fear
Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid
Under the skin, against the skull
They put a little chip so that they know it all
I think I might be scared
Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid
And how it gets in the way
In the way
In the way
In the way
And now I want brimstone in my garden
I want roses set on fire
And I, well, I want what's best for me
And I, well, I think I know just what that means
Just what that means
Today I coo, today I caw
I have a pistol party and I kill them all
I think I might be scared
Of the man and the men with their hands inside
And the women, oh, the women all they do is cry
And I, I, well, I lose my mind
I lose my mind
I lose my mind
I lose my mind
And now I found brimstone in my garden
I found roses set on fire
And I found Jesus, what a liar
So, I trade licks with muddy waters
And I, well I found what's best for me
And now I see no tragedy
And I, well, I've found a burning rose
And now I won't be packing little pistols
No, no, no more
