What I am really looking for is a bullet to make me dead
One given by a stranger with a gun close up to my head
A short homeward journey what more can I really ask
The gunshot passage to oblivion a bullet gets you there real fast
With pursed lips of pleasure the burnt powder will leave its mark
No drawn out pain or anguish just death as darkness falls real fast
No rerun of life before you no guilt or struggle to the last
Just goodbye willing victim as the bullet carries out its task