A Masters in Reverse Psychology

Put the bullet in the barrel
 Take the safety off
 Keep shootin' at the devil
 In the moonlight put it all on black
 Till your luck comes back
 We're all waitin' for the end
 What kind of finish will he send
 These hands of splinters
 Keep knockin' back the whiskey sours
 I've got a few more days to go
 And I've got another crust of bread somewhere
 Hold up waiting in this
 Is this what's left of the house
 Fill the lamp up with kerosene
 And toss the rest in the hall, just coat the walls
 And strike a cigarette when you hear them coming
 We'll pray for them and stay with them
 Till the poor little bastards die hand in hand
 We'll never forget them when they're gone
 So keep the girls inside of the little church
 With their bruised knees on the pews