I am a gun, feel my cold steel
and caress my edges
I tell them to stand clear,
scared of the bullets that will fire
because it is not me who pulls the trigger,
but my mind, riddling me with anxiety
and I'm scared that it is me who is in the iron sights
my own flesh and blood, heart and head
and when that time comes,
if that time comes
I don't want anybody caught in the crossfire