So I stare at the case that sits in the press
It’s clean and it’s empty right now
And I think to myself “Now remember this time”
“You can do it. You really know how”
I'm thinking quite calmly and with logic as well
“Just don’t put as much in as you do.
Your wrists will sure thank you, they won’t ache as much
And to boot, you’ll save money too”
So I gather up fillers, some corn starch and grits
Some caulk backer, popcorn and such
“I can do this”, I say as my hands start to shake
I tell myself, “Don’t load so much”
I look at the bullets, the new lighter ones
And I think that they’ll do me just fine
My speed will be better, my times will improve
I swear I can do it this time
And just when I’ve got myself psyched up at last
To download, because it makes sense
I find that I haven’t convinced myself yet
I guess that I’m still on the fence
Then at the last second with an audible groan
I throw the grits clean out the door
Then the corn meal and backer rod fly through the air
As I toss the new lead to the floor
I fill up the case with the dark powder spice
And cram in a two-fifty grainer
Both hands on the lever, sweat drips from my brow
You know that it’s just a no-brainer
It’s the roar and the flame and the buck of the gun
And the gasp from the crowd maybe too
Guess I need a 12 step plan, or maybe 13
To shake off this thing that I do
I can’t help myself, though I know that I should
I was hooked when I took this dark road
I’m addicted I know and I may need some help
I just can’t stay away from big loads
