Текст песни Without One

Sentiment wrapped in paper lacks the punch of a tongue, so give me my gun and give me my sword; be not my death but be my reward. We're close. We're going out of our way hanging our hopes on a "maybe I'm crazy." Shoulder cold from the shake down, not to fear what's to come. So give me my gun and give me my sword; be not my death but be my reward. We're close. We're going out of our way hanging our hopes on a "maybe I'm crazy." And for the rest of my life I thought I'd be doing just fine without one.