I've got a gun in my hand but the gun won't cock.
My finger's on the trigger but that trigger seems locked.
I can't stop staring at the tick-tock clock.
And even if I could, I would never give up.
With a vest on my chest, a bullet in my lungs.
I can't believe I'm dying with my song unsung.
But if and when I die, won't you bury me alone?
'Cause I'll never get to heaven if I'm singing this soooooong. . .
(Cue horns and ska beat)
See also: Point