They say when you’re in the Bullet Club, you’re in it for life.
You’re in it for the gold, the glory, and the fame.
An outsider, a gaijin in the Land of the Rising Sun
Bandits and outlaws, shooting anyone in our way, even our members
Never betray the goals, always strive for gold
Yet there’s a Hangman that walks alone.
A few stray bullets landed elsewhere,
Trading cerulean targets for plain white – bullets no longer matching the gun
Hangman’s bullet was just a little more different from the elite ammunition
A new wind was blowing,
His friends rode that wind like tumbleweeds,
Yet he was a tree.
With the weight of the world on his shoulders,
He shot headfirst into the future
Yet the future was bulletproof
The Hangman landed far behind his comrades
Though he didn’t know it, every tree eventually falls
Going all out with Buckshot Lariats and Deadeyes he shot,
But just so happened his bullet met the walls of Jericho.
This cowboy, with so many obstacles, took on his own heavy expectations
A burden he wanted to carry alone against bastards
But as every wise man must come to know, you can never go it alone
Try as he might to stray, his elite compatriots needed him against rival bandits
Stampeding across a stadium against an inner circle of heathens were they,
A Hangman, an Omega, two Bucks, and a Broken Hardy.
Victorious as they were, the Omega and the Hangman captured titles
With the Big Gold around their waists, they pulled the trigger
Unable to turn the Page, the Hangman downed pints at the saloon
Change came, and was still to come, and it hit him hard
The Omega reached out his hand, but even the Best Bout Machine must charge forward
And so came the time these Golden Cowboys had to Face the Revolution.
Inebriated and enabled by the townsfolk that came in to see this roaming circus,
The Anxious Millennial Cowboy drank fistfuls of booze, and could be carried no longer
A lesson every young cowpoke must learn in their self-destructive youth is this:
Know who to trust, and who not to trust, and the Revolution would challenge this
No longer could the Hangman keep up – he and the Omega collapsed in this standoff
Severing the tie, the Omega had bigger gold to claim so he left young Adam to hang.
The Hangman now rides alone, a roamer with no destination
A gaijin with no home – a gun-slinging ronin
That’s just the way he prefers it; sometimes a man must go it alone
No matter what big money man says, no matter what Exalted One offers
This tumbleweed must follow where the wind blows and take that route to high noon
Fellow bandit Omega became a Cleaner and the Faces of the Revolution reached the Pinnacle.
The Hangman lost it all, and the Exalted One’s Dark Order lost their leader
Such pain drove them together, try as the Hangman might to ride away
You let everyone down and they’ll let you down too
As this all-elite wrestling company grows, so does the amount of outlaws
But those boots don’t fit him anymore, he says, he must go it alone
One thing about folk is that you can’t go it alone though.
Watching from the sidelines, he watches a dream he’ll never wake up from
The perpetual quest for keeping occupied, entertained, and important –
Which burns at the edges of addiction
That addiction is the ring, for it’s all he knows
He doesn’t go there to die
He goes there to find out if he’s truly alive.
But the Dark Order doesn’t give up someone like that
They found family in each other and they see family in him
Perhaps they were never bandits or outlaws, but outcasts
What’s a hangman kicked out of his club if not that – a man cast out?
Someone betrayed, beat up, and left behind as people left him?
Those sad, lonely eyes that betray the mouth that screams for loneliness.
After all, who could understand that pain? Who would actually stick by him?
Go away, I don’t need you, they don’t want you, they’ll leave just the same
Cowboys like him, cowboys like him – eventually you stop saying the same old line
As he fought bell to bell, he came to realize this: you’ve got to fight for something new
While big money and evil and greed takes over and you struggle to keep up, you need a family
You need to join an order, join a family to stop losing and start winning.
Except…he didn’t; he accepted them, just as they accepted him
Family isn’t of the labels you stick onto yourself, it isn’t some obligated allegiance
Family is the unbridled, unconditional love and support
Family is where you belong, even if you don’t
Family is home, family is life
The Hangman hangs up his noose, for he found something to fight for again
The Hangman knows he must one day be grave maker and gunslinger to the Cleaner
For they are ravenous beasts; the same blood runs through both of them
The blood of a beast who wanders, hunting for the blood of others
He thinks he bled all of that blood away, bled away this vicious past
But as the Cleaner showed him once he left the Land of the Rising Sun –
Angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils.
Whilst the jackal holds the leash on the Cleaner and the Bucks,
Holds a leash on the Machine Gun and the Big Doc,
Whilst the American Nightmare fights his own battles
And the Hardy contends to Butchers, Blades, and his own Private Party,
The Dark Order without question is the Hangman’s Huckleberry
Someday there will be no more guns in the valley, but the story doesn’t end here.
Every bullet must make its mark, and Hangman has found his among his cowboy shit
Target his home, among all these numbers, from one to ten to negative one
An outlaw turned to an outcast, he’s not alone as he chases for the Big Gold around his waist
Family’s ‘round ev’ry corner – Belles, bartenders, poets, gamers, dungeon masters, you name it
Tale as old as time, no world order, no degenerate, no club goes without a family
Turn back the clocks, but you can’t turn back time – enjoy the now, enjoy what you got, partner.