| One man, one man without a gun.
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| lonely… one man who stood alone.
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| His name was Jesus named after
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| a man who hung on a cross
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| he is not a man of consequence
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| Jesus did not have a prayer
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| for he was pitted against the sort of folks
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| that are not the sort of folks
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| who are the sort who care
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| One man, one man without a gun
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| lonely… one man who had no one
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| dying, he died a William Holden death
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| drunken, liquor upon his dying breath
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| his blood flowed, his mighty rivers blow,
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| but he did not suffer any pain
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| his final act was to not act at all
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| the nectar had boiled his brain
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| One man, one man without a gun
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| lonely… one man who stood alone
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| all dressed up with no place special to go
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| as he stands and knocks at the gates of heaven
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| the lord he was out
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| the gates were all locked up
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| a sign hung on the gate
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| said the lord would return at seven.
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| One man, one man without a gun
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| lonely… one man who stood alone
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| one man, one man without a gun
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| lonely… one man without anyone |