The sweaty chest hairs of freedom
Reside upon my chest
Collecting sweat and grime
As I perpetrate my crime
I'm cleaning my gun
Which is a helluva lot of fun
Even though it's illegal now
To even own one
I speak to you now
From the far side of 2019
From inside my arsenal
The best you've ever seen
Over here I keep the body armor
All the better to get shot in
It deflects most shots with the vest
My body odor taking care of the rest
A few more steps inside
Your eyes will open wide
As a swath of guns fills your vision
Bookended by a pair of Harley Davidson Ultra Glides
I have a collection of cowboy hats
Just over there
Upon the heads of designer mannequin
I wear a different one most days
Staying the portrait of fashion
On this rack here
Two hundred handguns
Of all shapes and sizes
Preserved and ready to go
Just as the manual advises
In these boxes
Is the tear gas supply
It's crowd control at it's finest
And a joy to make small children cry
Now that you've seen it all
Let's just take a short walk down this hall
Yes that door there
Don't worry and mind the glare
Yes those floodlights
Are mostly to distract you
As you fall into my lime pit
Didn't you know?
I can't take the risk that you'll tell
Because having all this stuff is a capital crime
Oh that smell?
That's the last guy they sent
I know you know him
Don't lie
And don't bother to ask why
You've come for my guns
I know you
Your blue peacekeeper helmet gave you away
And you'll be getting my guns
When you pry them from my cold dead hands
Oh shit, sorry
You died before you heard that last bit
I'll save it for the next guy
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