Crossroads

Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with
But there was bad blood in him someway
He got into the magic bullets and
That leads straight to Devil’s work
Just like marywanna leads to heroin
You think you can take them bullets and leave 'em, do you?
Just save a few for your bad days
Well…
Well, now we all have those bad days when we can’t hit for shit
The more of them magics you use
The more bad days you have without them
So it comes down to finally
All your days being bad without the bullets
It’s magics or nothing
Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself
Kid, you’re hooked, heavy as lead
And that’s where old George found himself
Out there at the crossroads
Molding the Devil’s bullets
Now a man figures it’s his bullets
So it’ll take what he wants
But it don’t always work out that way
You see, some bullets is special for a single aim
A certain stag, or a certain person
And no matter where you aim, that’s where the bullet will end up
And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser’s wand
And points where the bullet wants to go
George Schmid was moving in a series of convulsive spasms
Like someone in an epileptic fit
With his face contorted, and his eyes wild
Like a lassoed horse
Bracing his legs but something kept pulling him on
And now he is picking up the skulls and makin' a circle
I guess old George didn’t rightly know what he was getting himself into
The fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads