I found myself in the comfort of the southern again
Well, hell is coming to breakfast, you better make some space
The devil runs his fingers down the spine of fate
Grins at me with a smile that spells out hate
Spins his chamber of his gun
There´s only one soul loaded for fun
Much more fun
Well, it´s much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
In the comfort of the devil again
Slides his pistol of sin over to me
I´ve caught the trigger, close my eyes and count to three
I squeeze tight wham, bam, bang, oh, dear me
What you say we make it best of three
Spins his chamber of his gun
There´s only one soul in it for fun
Much more fun
Oh, it´s much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
In the comfort of the devil again
Solo: Em
Oh, it´s much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
Much more fun
In the comfort of the devil again