Son of a Gun's Homecoming
I'm the son of a gun.
You can call me the son of Sam.
I kill, Bang, bang, you're dead..
I kill. therefore I am.
I remember my own sweet home,
where I never suffered loss,
and the holy rifle on the wall
slung just beneath the Cross.
No earthly power is my master.
No thing can hold me in awe.
To legal qualms I answer.
I stand for cannon law.
And as long as you are still breathing,
get more bangs from your buck.
Industry is thunderously booming
but never trust your luck.
For I may find you any place.
no matter where you roam,
in Iraq or Syria,
or where you are at home.
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