Scared of Guns — текст песни (John Wesley Harding)

Well, the power of the bullet is fascinating

Theyre polishing the luga facsimiles

The little kids grow up imitating

Cowboys shoot indians before puberty

Dont get me to the battle on time

Id be useless in the front line

Dont point that thing at me

You know Im scared of guns



You can argue, say its harmless

In the nightmare fairground gallery

Were all under pain of death

To keel right over gracefully

I ached to be a uniform man

And toss that baton in a marching band

Dont point that thing at me

You know Im scared of guns



Im scared of guns, theyre out of your hands

Im scared of guns, they might go bang

Im scared of guns, hey joe, theyre out of control

Im scared of guns, fear eat the soul

Dont shoot me



I wanna put flowers in the barrels

Like the famous photo, understand

That Id rather get hit on the head

That hold cold metal in my hand

The new arrival, the latest addition

The little boys running out of ammunition

Dont point that thing at me

You know Im scared of guns