The Boy With The Gun

He knows well his wicked ways
course of bitterness
[bad word] held from his childhood days
As if life had loved him less

Reading down his list of names
He ticks them one by one
He points the barrel at the sky
Firing shots off at the sun

I am the law and I am the king
I am the wisdom, listen to me sing

He carves out the victim's names
In the wooden butt of the gun
He leans well back against the tree
He knows his [bad word] 

He'll breath a sigh self satisfied
The work is in good hands
He shoots the coins into the air
And follows where the money lands

I am the law and I am the king
I am the wisdom, listen to me sing

He pauses at the city's edge
Of hellfire and of stone
He summons up the devil there
To give him courage of his own

He'll free the sinners of deceit
They'll hear his name [bad word] 
His justice is his own reward
Measured out beneath the sun

I am the law and I am the king
I am the wisdom, listen to me sing

And my name's on the gun