In my mind
let's dispose.
This old gun,
Yeah, who will know
Hide the gun,
In the brush,
Then steal another one what a rush.
Boiling in,
My army pants.
In the battlefield I'll be dead.Call my name through the screams,
And I try to load up again.

Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
To increase all this pain.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Load it up.
Hurry up.

Bumbling.
Sweating bad.
I knew I shouldn't have joined this clan.
Times are hard for Militia men,
And sometimes far to hard for me.
In my shoes,
Sweating cups.
In the brush you say shut up.
Heaven is better than hell anyway.
No one screams like you anymore.

Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
And shoot til' you get some pain.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Loadit up.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Brush all the rust away.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Load it up.
{F***ed up gun, f***ed up gun}}
Load it up.
{F***ed up gun, f***ed up gun}
Load it up.
{F***ed up gun, f***ed up gun}

{guitar solo while noises of gunshots are heard with screams}

In the swamp, bleedin' bare.
I guess I will disappear.

Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
And shoot til' you get some pain.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Loadit up.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Brush all the rust away.
Wacked up gun.
Load it up.
Load it up.
{F***ed up gun, f***ed up gun}}
Load it up.
{F***ed up gun, f***ed up gun}
Load it up.
{F***ed up gun, f***ed up gun}

{guitar solo, and at the end you can hear gunshots and army commands}