It Ain'T the Gun
It ain't the Gun
Never was it, that I was told I could be loved.
It was yesterday a host of roses fell,
all blocking our paths.
sincerely, you said, am all yours,
but that was my epitaph.
On our grave yard, they wrote, it ain't the gun
Killed like Romeo and Juilet.
Dying one by one, same day same session.
Where is the love?
Beauty been buried, riches turn to dust.
Why killed us ? ain't the roses romantic for us?
Ain't the riches enough for us ?
Why the gun?
Curse you, curse me, but all my fault
Love was the man behind the trigger.
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