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i'm pretty sure that a man with a gun in his hand decides the futurethat's something that i read in a book one timea picture of the man with a day-blue facehe walks around in the mountains above my placelike frankenstein's monster, he's sad and coldi see all the mistakes that i made in himwith the last years that i have been drinkingi invented him and now he's following me through ice patches and pine treesi hear his words in the sounds of birds,spring rain,beethoven,and engines.my lover's words, these track horses,my mother,and solitude.he is chance.he is luck,he is faith, and providence, and destiny."and now is never far from what he is,"says the man to another."indeed; and he can never go some place that he isn't,"said the other.yeah, i'm pretty sure that a man with a gun in his handdecides the future.decides my future. Aus Songtexte Mania