| I do not aim with my hand, he who aims with his
|
| Hand has forgotten the face of his father
|
| I aim with my eye
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| I do not shoot with my hand, he who shoots with his
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| Hand has forgotten the face of his father
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| I shoot with my mind
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| I do not kill with my gun, he who kills with his gun
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| Has forgotten the face of his father
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| I kill with my heart
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| The gunslinger is walking, chasing the man in black
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| So much his eyes see, so much death is on his way
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| Wastelands and mad trains, dark cities and disease
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| Draw three and walk on, to the center of all worlds
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| The dead boy’s returning, hold the keys
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| Go then, there are other worlds than these
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| Dark is the Gunslinger’s fate
|
| When the tower’s calling, a long way to go
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| Years were passing by so fast
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| Since the tower’s calling, to the end of time
|
| He is the last one, no doubt, never stop
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| Struggled for ages, almost lost on the shore
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| Climbs up the stairway, to the room at the top
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| What will he find when he opens up that door?
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| The crimson king is trapped inside its walls
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| In the center of all worlds the tower calls
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| The world will end soon after it falls
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| For now the beams are safe, he’s standing tall
|
| Dark is the Gunslinger’s fate
|
| When the tower’s calling, a long way to go
|
| Years were passing by so fast
|
| Since the tower’s calling, to the end of time |