With a Gun in My Hand

Through frozen fields we walked along
Entering the woods before dawn
Waiting for the sun to thaw the land
Just fourteen trying to be a man

In a restless voice, I spoke as a child
Cold and tired
When the sunrise broke, I stood by your side
Weary eyed
With a gun in my hand

A secret I keep to myself
Is that I had no taste for the kill
Oh but I loved to be at his side
Alone in the woods, my father and I

In a restless voice, I spoke as a child
Cold and tired
When the sunrise broke, I stood by your side
Weary eyed
With a gun in my hand

I saw him standing on the hill
A twelve point buck beautiful and still
I clapped my hands to scare him away
When I saw my father taking aim

Then a shot rang out, my ears went numb, and my heart beat wild
I could see him fall, his panic and pain, as I ran to his side
He was clinging to life, as I stroked my hand on his blood soaked attire
In a restless voice, Saint Peter, I cried, don’t let him die
With a gun in my hand