Текст песни Comfort Of The Devil

I found myself in the comfort of the southern again Hell is coming to breakfast, you better make some space The devil runs his fingers down the spine of fate Grins at me with a smile that spells out hate Spins his chamber of his gun There's only one soul loaded for fun Much more fun It's much more fun, much more fun Much more fun, much more fun In the comfort of the devil again Slides his pistol of sin over to me I cock the trigger, close my eyes and I count to three I squeeze tight wham, bam, bang, oh, dear me What do you say we make it best of three Spins his chamber of his gun There's only one soul in it for fun Much more fun It's much more fun, much more fun Much more fun, much more fun In the comfort of the devil again