Saturday Night Special



I was there to buy a pistol. She was there to hock her ring.

The broker in that pawnshop deals in almost anything.

He’ll pay you for your misery or he’ll sell you someone’s pain,

And that twinkle in his greedy eyes says your loss will be his gain.



She stood back in the shadows as the broker dealt with me.

Her eyes were dark and desperate from some private misery.

His word was so prophetic when he said, “You’ve got a steal.”

I said, “Throw in one bullet, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”



A Saturday night special is an easy thing to buy.

All you’ve got to be is 21, or 15 if you lie.

Just hand the man the money, and if someone’s got to die,

The broker in the pawnshop won’t even blink an eye.



He handed me the pistol, and I was almost to the door,

When I heard him tell the lady, “Seven dollars; nothing more.”

The lady started crying as he took her wedding band.

My hand was in my pocket, and the gun was in my hand.



I had planned to use that bullet on myself, to end my life.

I was once somebody’s husband. She was once somebody’s wife.

I usually mind my business but I could not walk away;

His dollars just weren’t making sense, and I knew I had to stay.



The broker’s face turned pasty when he caught my icy stare.

It would never leave my pocket, but he knew the gun was there.

I asked him what his life was worth, and he opened up that drawer.

For a simple golden wedding band, he paid two thousand more.



That Saturday night was special even though it wasn’t planned.

As we walked down the sidewalk, she reached and took my hand.

We crossed a bridge, and I took that gun and sailed it through the air.

I said, “Ever been to Texas?” She said, “I think I’d love it there.”



A Saturday night special is an easy thing to buy;

All you’ve got to be is 21, or 15 if you lie.

The broker in that pawnshop used to deal in everything -

But you can’t buy a pistol there; you can’t hock your wedding ring