Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with,
but there was bad blood in him someway
and he got into the magic bullets
and that leads straight to the 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, now we all have those bad days when you can't hit for s___.

The more of them magics you use, the more bad days you have without them.
So it comes down to finally to 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 will hit what he wants to hit. (so it will 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 distorted, and his eyes wild,
like a lassoed horse, bracing his legs but something kept pulling him on.
A now he is picking up the skulls and making the 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.

Music by: Tom Waits
Official release: "The Black Rider", Island Records Inc., © 1993

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