Revolvermouth

Close your eyes and count to two.
Fly off the handle, is what your gonna do.
Lately things aren't the way they seem
but to you, at least, it's just a dream.

You need to get a grip,
Revolvermouth.
Your starting to slip
into another 'red mist' trip.
Semi-conscious yet self-aware.

Close your eyes and count to three.
We don't want another killing spree.
I've seen you act that way before,
it's your only way to settle the score.

So chill yourself out,
Revolvermouth.
Think before you shout,
or you'll just bring about,
the worst of all possible ends.

Close your eyes and count to four
or heads will roll and hit the floor.
Hold your breath and grit your teeth,
leave your dagger in it's sheath.

We don't want you running amok,
Revolvermouth.
All loaded up, out of luck,
starting to come unstuck.
Already unhinged as it is.

Close your eyes and count to five.
If this all goes off, will you survive?
No time to stop and think it through,
Do you even have anything left to unscrew?

Your a walking disaster,
Revolvermouth.
It's your anger you need to master.
Gathering speed, faster and faster,
until inertia takes it's toll.

Close your eyes and count to six.
In time with the clicks
of your empty chamber.
You took too long,
Now everybodys gone.
Self-help helps the control
when distracted by a stranger.