text: Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with
  There was bad blood in him someway
  And he got into the magic bullets
  That lead straight to the Devils work
  Just like marijuana leads to heroin
  You think you can take them bullets and leave em, do you?
  Just save a few for your bad days
  Well well now, we all have those bad days
  When we cant hit for shit
  The more of them magics you use
  The more bad days you have without them
  So it comes down to finally
  All your days being bad without the bullets
  Its magics or nothing
  Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself
  Kid, youre hooked
  Heavy as lead
  And thats where old George found himself
  Out there at the crossroads
  Molding the Devils bullets
  Now a man figures its his bullets
  So itll take what he wants
  But it dont always work out that way
  You see, some bullets is special for a single target
  A certain stag or a certain person
  And no matter where you aim, thats where the bullet will end up
  And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowsers wand
  And points where the bullet wants to go
  George Schmidt was moving in a series of convulsive spasms
  Like someone in an epileptic fit
  With his face contorted and his eyes wild like a lassoed horse
  Bracing his legs, but something kept pulling him on
  Now he is picking up the skulls and makin a circle
  I guess old George didnt rightly know what he was getting himself into
  The fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads