This may seem like it's a shot at you

Now this may seem like it's a shot at you.
And sure, I may have taken aim once or twice
and even fired, but never to hurt you,
at least not anywhere that the hurt would stay.
I only fired to see if you'd hear the shot, and hide.
Of course you didn't.
I doubt you even knew that you were a target.
And now I take to telling myself that
the gun was given to me dirty,
fired some time ago by some bare-faced desert bandito
in some deadwood cantina at some sticky fingered swindeler
who really should have known better
and here I am, all mask and no pistol,
here I am with all saddle and no horse.
But that is not the case.
Not that I have a horse, or even a bare face,
but the pistol is warm in my palm and
you are no bottom-dealer.
This may seem like it's a shot at you,
and understandably so seeing how it stings the ears,
but don't bother feeling for blood.
I can ask for nothing more than a glance over your shoulder.