Son Of A Gun

Son of a Gun

(B. Dickinson/ J. Gers) Holy was the preacher Riding on his rig of steel in the rising sun This was no grim reaper But a man with a smile who took a pride in a job well done Ooh in a blood red sunrise He's preaching conversion as you lay down and die Just a god given holy roller In a god forsaken land He didn't choose this killing ground He didn't want this scrap of land You've got to scorch the earth, yeah and make the rivers run dry Untill we learn to hate like him Kill for killing - live to die Ride on you son of a gun, ride on Ride into the setting sun
Ride on you son of a gun You've gotta be a hero, for one last time To prove through your destruction That killing is a great way of life There's a wooden cross somewhere Where they'll bury you down deep You lie to your people - you lie to yourself Your in love with death babe - you've got no shame
Ride on you son of a gun, ride on Ride into the setting sun
Ride on you son of a gun
The preacher laughed - the preacher cried He loaded bullets as he smiled The congregation sat and wondered Would they live or would they die Just an ordinary man - with his orders and his plans In the shadows of a cross Ooh in a blood red sunrise Take me to Jesus - with Judas my guide Ride on you son of a gun, ride on Ride into the setting sun
Ride on you son of a gun
Ride on your bleeding heart Ride on you play no part Ride on you feel no pity Ride on you feel no pain Ride into history