Paul Bell

My Rifle

So cold, the rifle hard to hold

Death, always keeps you waiting

For now, I pen a verse

Love and hope, so strange

In the waiting game

I’ll kill you if I can

That’s the plan

Love and hope

It’s written in the stars

Reminds you who you are

But for now, it wasn’t to be

We move back

My rifle and me

Love and hope

It’s the least we can be.