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, well, I think I know just what that means
 Just what that means
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 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