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dan bull - boltgun lyrics

[verse 1: dan bull]
another day amid the chaos
never seem to get a day off
what can i do? say to the emperor: “hey, boss!
can i have a break?” i’d get a little more than laid off
luckily for me, don’t want to call it a day
my career’s flipping cool and the tool of my trade
is a bolt+bolt+boltgun all in a day’s work
roll straight up and put my tool in your face, uh

[pre+chorus: falconshield]
the stink of singeing blood and steel
no words portray how good it feels
when your face flays off like an orange peel
and you test your own flesh as your last meal

[chorus: falconshield]
oh, son
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun
i can tell you now that’ll be no fun
so do me a small favour, old chum
and dissolve as i assault you with my boltgun
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun, boltgun, boltgun
[verse 2: dan bull]
eight foot bl++dy high, but i’m still a stocky guy
pull out the heater like a pre+warmed banoffee pie slice
put out hits on repeat more than my spotify
i stick a bolt to your brain, that’s an occupied mind
laying bodies on ice like a hockey fight, time
to switch out the clip like a copyright strike
warhammer fan, i’d hammerfan, but i can’t see the hammer
still, i’m l!cking shots as if there’s salt on my tequila slammer

[pre+chorus: falconshield]
the stink of singeing blood and steel
no words portray how good it feels
when your face flays off like an orange peel
and you test your own flesh as your last meal

[chorus: falconshield]
oh, son
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun
i can tell you now that’ll be no fun
so do me a small favour, old chum
and dissolve as i assault you with my boltgun
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun
you don’t wanna smoke from my boltgun, boltgun, boltgun
[verse 3: dan bull]
i’m a man on a mission, pack enough ammunition
to last ’till the last of attackers is lacking a living
that’s a distinctive pattern
i’ve sank enough ships with my kraken
that entire fleets and flotillas are flattened
tortilla wrap them in flak, and then snack on the shrapnel
’till my biscuit barrel’s rattling
guess that’s the way the biscuit’s cracking
picking and packing my clips, i know when to hold them
racking up hits, i fold ’em
that bl++dy quick, you panic and struggle to hold on
to the stuff in your colon

[pre+chorus: falconshield]
the stink of singeing blood and steel
no words portray how good it feels
when your face flays off like an orange peel
and you test your own flesh as your last meal

- dan bull lyrics

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