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 what’s best for me
And I, 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, 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, I found a burning rose
And now I won’t be packing little pistols
No, no, no more