1996
I take three steps and I turn
And face a one eyed witness
The Blue steeled accuser takes a confident bead
On my shaking frame
With my arms encased in hot asphalt
My holster baked in clay
I try to wake from my dream
But I just can’t seem
To turn away
I’m a straight shooter
On the wrong end of a gun
I try to turn it around
I’m a straight shooter on the wrong end of a gun
I try to turn it around
Gain control of my
Straight shooter
I’ve never been home
I’m not sure I have one
I’ve been looking for years
All all over the world
Every highway my driveway
Every town my front porch
I try to wake from my dream
But I just can’t seem
To unlock my front door
I’m a straight shooter
On the wrong end of a gun
I try to turn it around
I’m a straight shooter on the wrong end of a gun
I try to turn it around
Gain control of my
Straight shooter
Convicted by tears
Of a young child’s mama
In the crotch of my soul
It’s as cold as ice
In every shotglass a memory
In every chaser a doubt
I try to wake from my dream
But I just can’t seem
To put the bottle down
I’m a straight shooter
On the wrong end of a gun
I try to turn it around
I’m a straight shooter on the wrong end of a gun
I try to turn it around
Gain control of my
Straight shooter
