Man With a Gun

Forty-seven years ago I was born in a foreign land I still call home But it's no more and it's all gone There's nothing I can do But sit drinking right here Struggling through midlife I've gotta twelve-year old boy, a lovely wife I built my home up high on the edge of knife Trying to get a view Of all the years that have come and gone The trials, the tribulations that are words in this song I struggled as boy and more as man I had a funny sounding name in American lands Landed seven-three on a jet airplane Settled south of Chi-Town in the pouring rain In a Northwest Indiana steel mill town This Region Rat boy finally settled down Land Ho' it's time to go Pack your bags we're heading south to Mexico You gotta set your sail to the setting sun And try and out run the man with a gun So, I chased my dream just as far as I can I hit the road in search of fame I'm a musical man With a four-string guitar, my band in van Seven shows a week we were in high demand But the dream ran aground on corporate greed 'Cause the business in the music is what nobody needs And I turned from the band green thumb in hand To a new muse I could love and could understand But my time was up I had to pay my dues I made the daily paper and the evening news For all the good and bad things in my life I've done Had to face the sheriff's man at the end of gun Spent my share of nights jail Hidden from the sun denied my bail I was facing 6 to 30 years of my life Just for walking too close to the edge of a knife Land Ho' it's time to go Pack your bags we're heading south to Mexico You gotta set your sail to the setting sun And try and out run the man with a gun Land Ho' it's time to go Grab your wife and kids and hug them slow Set your sail to the setting sun And try and out run the man with a gun So, I find myself again with a guitar in my hand Singing songs to you I'm the music man I've finally come full circle in my life Trying to avoid the pain at the edge of that knife Begging that you hear the words I preach and sing Cause the worlds a wicked place and can be a terrible thing If you run afoul of the law of the land You find yourself wanted and a hunted man Land Ho' it's time to go Pack your bags we're heading south to Mexico You gotta set your sails to the setting sun And try and out run the man with a gun Land Ho' it's time to go Grab your wife and kids and hug them slow Set your sail to the setting sun And try and out run the man with a gun