If it weren't for this gun
Smoking in my hand
I'd be a dead man
Just after ten, Sunday night
Kids are all in bed
Was just talking to my wife
She's in Chicago
He stepped out of the shadows
Pushed a knife into my back
Thought about the sleeping kids
I shoved away the blackness
Trying to take me
He walked into the office
I could hear him at the desk
I was crawling back up the stairs
Couldn't catch my breath
But was determined
Smoking in my hand
I'd be a dead man
Just after ten, Sunday night
Kids are all in bed
Was just talking to my wife
She's in Chicago
He stepped out of the shadows
Pushed a knife into my back
Thought about the sleeping kids
I shoved away the blackness
Trying to take me
He walked into the office
I could hear him at the desk
I was crawling back up the stairs
Couldn't catch my breath
But was determined
I made it to the nightstand
Got my hands on my gun
I heard him cuss my absence
Hit the stairs at a run
I was shaking
Made it to my feet
And aimed for the door
He drew back to throw the knife
Shot my gun, he hit the floor
I tried to breathe
If it weren't for this gun
Smoking in my hand
I'd be a dead man
This story's for anyone
Who tries to take my gun
Imagine your children
At the mercy of this thug
No, really see it
No rules, in his evil mind
To interrupt his plans
The only thing that stopped him
Was this gun in my hand
And you can't have it
If it weren't for this gun
Smoking in my hand
I'd be a dead man
If it weren't for this gun
Smoking in my hand
I'd be a dead man
This story's for anyone
Who tries to take my gun
Imagine your children
At the mercy of this thug
No, really see it
No rules, in his evil mind
To interrupt his plans
The only thing that stopped him
Was this gun in my hand
And you can't have it
If it weren't for this gun
Smoking in my hand
I'd be a dead man
Teresa Lynn Johnson
Wrdspnr@aol.com
Copyright© 2015
Wild thing you move me .....and I like it
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