Six-Shooter Al Shields his villainy ways out west
He’s seeking gold and nothing less
An easy solution it rapaciously sprawls
It’s all around, it’s all around, it’s all around
In the streets
No earthquake compares
It’s the strike of the thieves
Though I’ve held a pick and shovel my hands are not of King Midas
Sustenance keeps
Say farewell to the mines and be set free
Hangman awaits
His noose is not just for the thieves
Just have to hold enough greed
Could have lived innocently
With all the dust how does one breathe?
Take what is mine from the mines of the earth
Losing my mind, I don’t mind for what it’s worth
I’ve bellowed my beliefs now watch the city burst
It will burst into flames once the gold strikes the home
Six Shooter Al infected with the same disease
It’s all around, it’s all around, it’s all around