Crossroads
Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with, but there was badbloodIn him; someway he got into the magic bullets and that leads straight toDevil's work, just like marijuana leads to heroin; you think yo ucan takeThem bullets or leave 'em, do you?Just save a few for your bad daysWell, now, we all have those bad days when you can't shoot for shit.The more of them magics you use, the more bad days you have withoutthemSo it comes down finally to all your days being bad without the bulletsIt's magics or nothingTime to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,Kid, you're hooked, heavy as leadAnd that's where old George found himselfOut there at the crossroadsMolding the Devil's bulletsNow a man figures it's his bullets, so it willHit what he wants to hitBut it don't always work that wayYou see, some bullets is special for a single aimA certain stag, or a certain personAnd no matter where you are, that's where the bullet will end upAnd in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser's wandAnd point where the bullet wants to go(George Schmid was moving in a series of convulsive spasms, likesomeonewith an epileptic fit, with his face distorted and his eyes wild like alassoed horse bracing his legs. But something kept pulling him on. Andnowhe is picking up the skulls and making the circle.)I guess old George didn't rightly know what he's getting himself intoThe fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads