It’s not a crime to hold a gun and squeeze
The trigger with one finger of your hand
To put your flesh to metal as you please
The levers and the springs at your command
It’s not a crime to feel a wave of peace
Because you’re in control of this machine
To take a breath then slowly to release
To feel the hammer dropping smooth and clean
There is no way to stop the causal chain
The strike breeds an explosion–sound and heat
The bullet’s path determined will remain
As fixed and true as love, if not as sweet
And if the gun was pointed at a heart
The crime was done before the bullet’s part