| The children are crying, they never got their supper
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| Where would you run to, in the darkness of the night?
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| Even shadows fear to wander
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| They gather round me in the candlelight
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| Your crucifix is broken, bloody, sharp and shattered
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| I smashed it to pieces on the bedroom floor
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| Pain and prayers and promises scattered
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| Then I pulled the pistol from the dresser drawer
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| Oh Lord, oh Lord
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| Oh Lord, what have I done?
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| Everything worth holding slips through my fingers
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| Now my hands wrapped around the handle of a gun
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| The further I fall the less I falter
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| Forsaken, forgotten, without love
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| A slow motion whisper turns into a holler
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| Forty years of push turns into a shove
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| Oh Lord, oh Lord
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| Oh Lord, what have I done?
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| Everything worth holding just slips through my fingers
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| Now my hands wrapped around the handle of a gun
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| The chair that I sit in belonged to my daddy
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| Carved from the hard wood of a bitter tree
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| When he was alive he used tell me, kid
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| I knew when you were born you’d end up snakebit like me
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| Oh Lord, oh Lord
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| Oh Lord, what have I done?
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| Everything worth holding slips through my fingers
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| Now my hands wrapped around the handle of a gun
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| I’m holding on to the handle of a gun |