Yea, he used to shoot it in the air for kicks.
Promised he had perfect aim, swore that he couldn't miss.
Wore it underneath his belt because by law that was his right.
Besides you never know what type of dangers hiding in the night.
Said he'd never use it in a fight he'd take a punch instead.
And It made him feel at home he used to hunt with Grandpa as a kid.
As time went on he started to think more and more,
about what he would do if he was home and someone kicked down his door.
Paranoia kept increasing.
He kept imagining a tragedy…
as if it was inevitable.
Trying to prepare himself for how he'd feel if he ever had to steal a life to save a loved one's or his own.
That soulless piece of metal was the boss of the relationship.
Bought it to keep him safe,
but it just made him sick.
And it wasn't until the day that he got rid of it that he felt like he was safe no longer a slave to that piece of shit.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you yea.
You can own it but mostly it'll own you no.