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

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 kill ‘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