The Quill - MICAH P. HINSON

The quill holds the paper still, the ink draws nothing from this lonely heart

The quill holds the hand still, the paper draws nothing from this lonely heart

Keep the gun cocked, keep the barn checked

Alone thinking of ways you’ll come back to kill me

Oh darling yes you’ll kill me

Keep the gun cocked, keep the barn checked

Alone thinking of ways you’ll come back to kill me

Oh yes you will kill me

The windows hold the glass panes closed

From shattering against this worn and lonely heart

The glass panes hold the windows closed

From shattering against this worn and lonely heart

I’ll keep the gun cocked, keep the barn checked

Still thinking of ways that you’ll come back and kill me

Oh darling you must kill me

Keep the gun cocked, you keep the barn checked

Alone thinking of ways you’ll come back to kill me

Oh darling you must kill me