Like a corn in a field I cut you down
I threw the last punch too hard
After years of going steady, well I thought that it was time
To throw in my hand for a new set of cards
And I can't take you dancing out on the weekend
I figured we'd painted too much of this town
And I tried not to look as I walked to my wagon
And I knew then I had lost what should have been found
I knew then I had lost what should have been found [bad word] 
And I feel like a bullet in the gun of Robert Ford
I'm low as a paid assassin is
You know I'm cold as a hired sword
I'm so ashamed, can't we patch it up
You know I can't think straight no more
You make me feel like a bullet honey in the gun, in the gun of Robert Ford
Like a child when his toys have been stepped on
That's how it all seemed to me
I burst the bubble that both of us lived in
And I'm damned if I'll ever get rid of this guilt that I feel
And if looks could kill then I'd be a dead man
Your friends and mine don't call no more [bad word]  I thought it was best but now I feel branded
Breaking up's sometimes like breaking the law
Breaking up's sometimes like breaking the law
(repeat [bad word] 
(repeat [bad word]