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 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 k** 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 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