Compares itself to burdens of her lip
with dirty bullets shooting out of range.
They puncture hearts and wreck all souls with change
of soon to be a past relationship.
Revolver spirits fit more like her soul,
as she, untouched, can cause a broken heart
for she’s not scared of what might cause
her part;
she cares no more of living like a whole.
But to her words for sure I give no blame,
since it’s her past, the one that caused
the break;
That broken heart of hers now hides
in shame.
She thinks that truth prevents another ache.
To her love lied, so now for truth she aims
with her revolver mouth, for mistakes’ sake.