Pistols at Dawn

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Jon Porobil

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Our bed's a battleground
This house is upside-down
My mouth a gunshot wound
Landmines in every room

Time was, you couldn't help but hold me
Nothing could keep us apart

Every word you say to me
Becomes some kind of machinery
That I fall upon       
Every night we're trading intimate
Injuries so why can't we admit
What our words become
Pistols at dawn

Your shadow at the door
The looming fog of war
Impassive steely stare
That icy whoosh of air
 
Lately I just can't help but hurt you
I keep on breaking your heart

Every word you say to me
Becomes some kind of machinery
That I fall upon       
Every night we're trading intimate
Injuries so why can't we admit
What our words become
Pistols at dawn

Some creepy masquerade
Big spinning disco ball
A freshly polished blade
That's hanging on the bedroom wall
Somebody called your bluff
That measured eerie calm 
An oiled leather glove
That smells of Scotch and Tiger Balm
Your flushed and ringing ears
This empty fifth of gin
Big crocodile tears
The world's smallest violin 

Every word you say to me
Becomes some kind of machinery
That I fall upon       
Every night we're trading intimate
Injuries so why can't we admit
What our words become
Pistols at dawn
Pistols at dawn
Pistols at dawn
Pistols at dawn
Pistols at dawn
Pistols at dawn
Pistols at dawn

 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!