Cool metal, harsh click, the smell of fear
Death in their eyes, or maybe just alcohol
Round and round it goes, in an endless circle
Point, click, is it your turn?
Press it to your temple, take the risk
You are at Death’s door step
Pull the trigger, is it your turn?
You are knocking on Death’s door
Empty, it must not be your turn
Pass it on, listen for the click
Wait for the harsh sound
Wait for pain, wait for blood
Blood, blood everywhere,
Coating everything, you run
Run, into the cold, away from the fear
Round and round It went, endless circle
I knocked on Death’s door
I plead with Him to take me
He turned me down, again and again
Russian roulette, my last chance
Point, click, it was my turn