Cold Hands

Cold Hands

You ask me where I’m going,
I say I’m doing time
They’ve got me on a leash now honey
They’re tearing through my mind.
They say they’ve got me.
Murder of the first degree.
They’ve got me praying forgiveness,
They want me on my knees.
Oh, the storms coming now,
You best be running now.
Oh, the storms coming down,
You best be running now.
So there I sat with cold hands,
Caressing my gun and I said,
Boy, you don’t know what you’ve done!
See I’m a man of my word,
I’m a preachers son, and
I’m gonna put you down for what you’ve gone and done!
Oh, the storms coming now,
You best be running now.
Look out! The storms coming round.
I’m gonna hunt you down!
The devil and his order
Are tugging at my feet and I cry,
“Lord, Lord, come and save me!
Oh, the storms coming now,
You best be running now. Look out!
The storms coming round,
I’m gonna shoot you down!