Miss Karma

You're shootin' shots of whiskey at that run-down town saloon

Well, if you got the guts, come meet me when the clock strikes noon

Got that single-shot revolver growin' anxious in my hand

And in the other lies a list of hearts you broke in this wasteland

Oh, don't pretend like I don't know you

Oh, you know the truth is still the truth

You better watch your back, get your stories straight

You better count all the enemies you've made

Cause Miss Karma's back in town to give you hell

You better pray to God, get yourself in church