Drawbridge

When I said I loved you
You said you hoped so
But I still take you phone calls
And once a week I am shot dead
From a stolen rifle that was well kept
It's small, and it's slow
And it stings and I know that
I've worked towards this death my whole life
Breathe out
Collect last thoughts
Bleed out
Lay down
Have another conversation
Say "sorry"
I feel like Tennessee Williams when I try to explain
And you all give me that look
One day I won't wait for the drawbridge
I'll gun for it anyway