Year of the Gun Songtext
von Last in Line

I drive myself into an early grave
To a faith I′ve become a slave
The butcher, the baker, it's common place
Everybody′s got one and they're taking aim at you

Another hit and run
The year of the gun

Gun, the year of the gun
Gun, the year of the gun

Come and take in so many ways
Are you safe? Another debt to pay
In track suits or jack boots, it's all the same
Bite your tongue before they rip it out of you


Have we come undone
The year of the gun

Gun, the year of the gun
Gun, the year of the gun

One comes undone
And one life is stolen
Hands dead and cold
Your laws are misspoken
We reach for the sun
Only to be shackled up in chains

Gun, the year of the gun
Gun, the year of the gun


Gun, the year of the gun
The year of the gun
The year of the gun
Gun