Part One
The inquisition is here;
the firing squad
with the loaded guns.
Gunfight at the corral.
But it ain’t OK.
Six a them to me one.
This ain’t a fair fight.
I need Jesus
and a miracle.
Remember the Alamo
and the bitches of Salem.
Same in difference.
These hired guns tracked me down.
Big reward for my head.
Dead or alive.
Depending if you believe the posters
or the gossip.
These hombres was my brothers.
Now I stare back at ‘em.
They don’t remember me.
How we used to sit
round mama’s table and talk trivia.
Then they said they loved me.
Money makes men feign amnesia
and tell you they can help.
Part Two
The sun goes behind a cloud.
High noon.
The moment of truth.
Before the first sweat bead drops
I fill the bastards with lead.
Heavy shit.
They stagger back.
I see the blank look in they eye.
In all of them guns
they only ever had one bullet.
A silver one.
Big hole in my chest now
sucking on my blood.
Hole was there before
the first shot went off.
Foregone conclusion.
They don’t have to be right
to kill me dead.
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