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Some folks ride like the windWith the whispering pines to guide themAnd the burning light inside themKeeps them warm in the snowOthers fear the sounds they hearMake bandito's out of mole-hillsFill their hearts with porcupine quillsThey’re dead and buried long before they goCharlton Heston movies are no longer in demandHis immortal soul my lay forever in the sandThe angels wouldn’t take him up to heaven like he planned‘Cause they couldn’t pry that gun from his cold deadhandIt takes a cold dead hand to decide to pull the triggerIt takes a cold dead heart and as near as I can figureWith your cold dead aim you’re trying to prove your dickis biggerBut we know your chariot may not be swinging lowCold dead hand - cold dead handCold dead hand - cold dead handYou’re a big big man with an little bitty glandSo you need something bigger just to fillLetras de cancionesYour cold dead handImagine if the lord were hereAnd he knew what you’ve been thinkin’Would his sacred heart be sinkin’Into the canyon of dismayAnd on the ones who sell the gunsHe’d signal vultures and coyotesOnly the devil’s true devoteesCould profiteer from pain and fearCharlton Heston movies are no longer in demandHis immortal soul my lay forever in the sandThe angels wouldn’t take him up to heaven like he planned‘Cause they couldn’t pry that gun from his cold deadhandIt takes a cold dead hand to decide to pull the triggerIt takes a cold dead heart and as near as I can figureWith your cold dead aim you’re trying to prove your junkis biggerBut we know your chariot may not be swinging lowCold dead hand - cold dead handCold dead hand - cold dead handCold dead hand - cold dead handYou’re a big big man with an little bitty glandSo you need something bigger with a hair-pin triggerYou don’t want to get caught with your trousers downWhen the psycho killer comes aroundSo you make your home like a thunderdomeAnd you’re always packin’ everywhere you roamBut the psycho’s win no matter what you do‘Cause they’re gonna buy way more guns than youAnd while you’re stumbling out of bedThey put five rounds in the back of your headOr you get depressed ‘cause the money runs outThen you put your own shotgun in your mouthAnd your kids walk in and they find you thereLike a headless stump in your underwearAnd they move the gun and it kills them tooAnd your wife just doesn’t know what to doBut she takes a hand grenade from her shoeAnd she pulls the pin...And it’s all on youAnd your cold dead hand From Letras Mania