Little Pistol

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 the 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 'em 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, yeah, 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 found a burning rose

And now I won't be packin' little pistols

No, no, no more