| Bang!
|
| Bang bang!
|
| Bang!
|
| Bang bang!
|
| Your finger’s on the trigger
|
| Your eyes on the prize
|
| Your sign says bring your backwards cap
|
| Can’t hide that dirty mind
|
| You’re scoping me
|
| You’re throwing me
|
| Right in your line of fire
|
| Your empties on the table
|
| Your ego fills the bar
|
| Another round might take me down
|
| You’re close but no cigar
|
| You’re playing me
|
| Relentlessly
|
| Pushing it up to the wire
|
| Can’t you see my heart is bulletproof?
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| There’s no boom to your bang
|
| Shooting blanks
|
| You won’t hear those angels say
|
| Your Casanova cowboy game is on
|
| And those lines you’re shelling out ain’t real bullets halls
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| The only thing that’s smokin'
|
| Is the ground underneath my boots
|
| And that last drag of my cigarette
|
| As I walked away from you
|
| The words you say
|
| Might reek a shade
|
| Hit you where the sun don’t shine
|
| Can’t you see my heart is bulletproof?
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| There’s no boom to your bang
|
| Shooting blanks
|
| Won’t hear those angels say
|
| Your cowboy Casanova ain’t is on
|
| And those lines you’re shelling out ain’t real bullets halls
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| You need some practice
|
| Need to polish up your skills
|
| For you it’s all about the thrill of the kill
|
| Your game is numbers
|
| And sometimes it’s hit or miss
|
| But baby you ain’t hitting this
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| There’s no boom to your bang
|
| Shooting blanks
|
| You won’t hear those angels sayin'
|
| Your Casanova cowboy game is on
|
| Those lies you’re shelling out ain’t real bullets halls
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| Shooting blanks
|
| You call that a gun?
|
| Boy you better put that gun away
|
| You’re shooting blanks
|
| Boom boom!
|
| Bang bang!
|
| Boom boom!
|
| Bang! |