Lyrics John Wesley Harding

John Wesley Harding

Scared Of Guns

Well, the power of the bullet is fascinating

They're polishing the luga facsimiles

The little kids grow up imitating

Cowboys shoot Indians before puberty

Don't get me to the battle on time

I'd be useless in the front line

Don't point that thing at me

You know I'm scared of guns

You can argue, say it's harmless

In the nightmare fairground gallery

We're all under pain of death

To keel right over gracefully

I ached to be a uniform man

And toss that baton in a marching band

Don't point that thing at me

You know I'm scared of guns

I'm scared of guns, they're out of your hands

I'm scared of guns, they might go bang

I'm scared of guns, Hey Joe, they're out of control

I'm scared of guns, fear eat the soul

Don't shoot me

I want to put flowers in the barrels

Like the famous photo, understand

That I'd rather get hit on the head

That hold cold metal in my hand

The new arrival, the latest addition

The little boys running out of ammunition

Don't point that thing at me

You know I'm scared of guns