Lyrics
You can reach for your service pistol
By the time you get it
I'm betting that this will be over and done with
Leave your badge and your gun
You won't be coming home tonight
Because you're dealing with a man at the end of his rope
And I'll be swinging for the fences on a prayer and a hope
There'll be no celebrations, or banner, libations
Just your sad and lonely wife
You want the glory
Resplendent kill
You want the story of the ill-famed blood you spilled
Because there's a Midwest overcoat
And it's begging to be filled
And if I'm not caught wearing it, you will
You'll have to do better than that
You'll have to do better than that
Because it passed right through the abdomen of this same old lucky cat
Yea, you'll have to do better than that
Fuck it
In 1916 at seven years old, I shot a kid in the mug with a found pistol
First taste of the bracelets, first taste of the can
Gave him a taste of the grave before his life began
And all we know is all that we've been told
Reformed or refined, as if by design
By a prison system that's all but resigned
When the ideal prisoner should spend his life drifting back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth
So swaddle me in a Native blanket
You know I can't stand being cold
Leave me out front of the bleeding church
To meet the head of the household
I sold my soul for a handful of kills and a bankroll
I sold my soul
Swaddle me in a Native blanket
You know I can't stand being cold
Leave me out front of the bleeding church
To meet the head of the household
I sold my soul
You want the glory
Resplendent kill
You want the story of the ill-famed blood you spilled
There's a Midwest overcoat
And it's begging to be filled
And if I'm not caught wearing it, you will
Drive, just drive