Walking south along the river
|
Never had he found that twist of pleasure
|
Remembering times when they were younger
|
Setting the town on fire
|
|
And watching as his fellow friends
|
Fell apart in the wake
|
Claiming it was all just a mistake
|
When his finger pulled the trigger
|
|
And he shot everyone
|
It was all just a mistake
|
When he shot everyone
|
|
Nothing will stand in the way
|
When hunger hasn't eaten for days
|
Scrounges around where ends meet
|
And disappears into the fray
|
|
He hopes for awhile he'll reconcile
|
The pain that never dies
|
The ghosts of his family constantly
|
Gnawing at his insides
|
|
He pulls out a worn photo
|
And an old handmade gun
|
Wishes it was he who was frying
|
When he set the whole town on fire
|
|
He walks off crying
|
|
-----------------
|
Trigger
|
| Calexico |
