|
(Guy Clark) |
|
The old gunfighter on the porch |
|
Stared into the sun |
|
And relived the days of living by the gun |
|
When deadly games of pride were played |
|
And living was mistakes not made |
|
And the thought of the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
Ah, the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
It's always keep your back to the sun |
|
He can almost feel the weight of the gun |
|
And he's faster than snakes or the blink of an eye |
|
And it's a time for all slow men to die |
|
And his eyes get squinty and his fingers twitch |
|
As he empties the gun at the son of a bitch |
|
And he's hit by the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
Hit by the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
Now the burn of a bullet is only a scar |
|
He's back in his chair in front of the bar |
|
And the streets are empty and the blood's all dried |
|
And the dead are dust and the whiskey's inside |
|
So buy him a drink and lend him an ear |
|
'Cause he's nobody's fool and the only one here |
|
Who remembers the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
Remember the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
He said I stood in that street before it was paved |
|
Learned to shoot or be shot before I could shave |
|
And I did it all for the money and fame |
|
Noble was nothing but feeling no shame |
|
And nothing was sacred but stayin' alive |
|
And all that I learned from a Colt 45 |
|
Was to curse the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
Curse the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
He's just an old man, now, that no one believes |
|
That says he's a gunfighter, the last of the breed |
|
And there are ghosts in the street seeking revenge |
|
Calling him out to the lunatic fringe |
|
Now he's out in the traffic checking the sun |
|
And he's killed by a car as he goes for his gun |
|
So much for the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
|
So much for the smell of the black powder smoke |
|
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke |
