Letra de A Poor Aim

My name is Joy, and I′m in hell
That's what they call my prison cell
For I have killed a man, who came to take my landPapers from the bank was in his hand

He found me in my patch of field
Flushing crows to make them yield
In a moment of despair, I fired in the air
As I saw him fall, I shed no tear

Whatever goes up, must come down
And it might hit you to the ground
If it goes up, it will come down
And it might turn your life around

When all is said and all is done
Mine was the hand that held the gun
So I will take the blame, for my lousy aim
At least my land no longer he can claim