"Who are you really?"

I am a gun that many people are afraid of, yet I don't know why.
I know very well that my mind is really a gun, so I
am careful with the words I choose, the lives I've taken into my heart... nowadays.
Maybe that's why I'm too careful anyways.
I don't wanna overexpose film, nor undersell my will...
Don't wanna give in to anybody that wants to send me to kill
anybody else... because it's not a decision I should make
The only thing I'll choose is the life I'll take
And should I choose the life that God gave me or the life that shows God left me

You know, the funny thing... he never really left me.
I think he did, but he let me decides who I wanna be.
And who I wanna be is gun, I decided this.
Maybe that's why people think I'm sick.

So, I chose to be a bridge, but people burned me
I chose to be goodwill, but they turned from me
I chose religion, but there's too many people lost
I chose to be Jesus, but I got nailed to a cross.

Who am I, really?
A guy you think you know, but you don't.
Everyone wants me to be who they won't want to be.
So, when all else fails... I gotta be me.
I still don't know who I am really...
except I ain't you. Seriously.