He used to shoot it in the air for kicks

promised he had perfect aim, swore that he couldn't miss

Wore it underneath his belt because by law that was his right

Besides, you never know what types of danger's hiding in the night

He said he'd never use it in a fight, he'd take a punch instead

and it made him feel at home, he used to hunt with grandpa as a kid

As time went on he started to think more and more

about what he would do if he was home and someone kicked down his door

Paranoia kept increasing, he kept imagining the tragedy as if it was inevitable

Trying to prepare himself for how he'd feel

if he ever had to steal a life to save a loved ones or his own

That soulless piece of metal was the boss in the relationship

he bought it to keep him safe but it just made him sick

And it wasn't until the day that he got rid of it

that he felt like he was safe, no longer a slave to that piece of shit