Dead End

[Abra Hahn]

In the same night when you sit and write your will there
Think about your kids and 'bout your wife and 'bout to kill her
Whisper 'Gladis' to your gun and continue to fill her
Cannot pay the rent or just the bill there
Next to the empty whiskey bottle and the pills there
Feel the sweat on your forehead and the chills there
Already picturing your own grave on the hill there
Click-clack, fully loaded weapon to your temple, now you stand up to fulfill here