Lyrics
You have a natural tendency to squeeze off a shot
You're good fun at parties, you wear the right masks
You're old, but you still like a laugh in the locker room
You can't abide change, you're at home on the range
You opened a suitcase behind the old workings
To show off the magnum, you deafened the canyon
A comfort, a friend, only upstaged in the end by the Uzi machine gun
Does the recoil remind you?
Remind you of sex, old man, what the hell you gonna kill next?
Old timer, who you gonna kill next?
I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?
Saw a US Marine in a pile of debris
I swum in your pools and lay under your palm trees
I looked in the eyes of the Indian
Who lay on the Federal Building steps
And through the range finder over the hill
Saw the frontline boys popping their pills
Sick of the mess they find on their desert stage
And the bravery of being out of range
Yeah, the question is vexed
Old man, what the hell you gonna kill next? (yeah)
Old timer, who you gonna kill next?
Hey bartender, over here
Two more shots and two more beers
Sir, turn up the TV sound
The war has started on the ground
Just love those laser guided bombs
They're really great for righting wrongs
You hit the target and win the game
From bars 3,000 miles away
3,000 miles away
We play the game with the bravery of being out of range (oh oh yeah)
We zap and maim with the bravery of being out of range
We strafe the train with the bravery of being out of range
We gain terrain with the bravery of being out of range
We play the game with the bravery of being out of range