Giving up the gun

"Your sword's grown old and rusty, burnt beneath the rising sun
It's locked up like a trophy, forgetting all the things it's done
And though it's been a long time, you're right back where you started from
I see it in your eyes that now you’re giving up the gun"

"When I was 17, I had wrists like steel and I felt complete
And now my body fades behind a brass charade and I'm obsolete
But if the chance remains to see those better days, I'd cut the cannons down
My ears are blown to bits from all the rifle hits, but still I crave that sound"

Love!