Oh ain't it lonely. When you're livin' with a gun. Well you can't slow down and you can't turn 'round. And you can't trust anyone. You just sit there like a butterfly. And you're all encased in glass. You're so fragile you just may break. And you don't know who to ask. Oh ain't it lonely. When you're livin' with a gun. Well you can't slow down and you can't turn 'round. And you can't trust anyone. You just sit there like a butterfly. You're well protected by the glass. You're such a rare collector's item. When they throw away what's the trash. You can hang suspended from a star. Or wish on a toilet roll. You can just soak up the atmosphere. Like a fish inside a bowl. When the ghost comes round at midnight. Well you both can have some fun. He can drive you mad he can make you sad. He can keep you from the sun. When they take him down he'll be both safe and sound. And the hand does fit the glove. And no matter what they tell you. There's good and evil in everyone.