A spaghetti western Gun on his hip Zealot of freedom He met the devil down where the heat rises from the sand and the humidity of the jungle frizzed his hair Ever since then he's been broken and damned All of his cowboy killers have been ran, and his chew down to a couple of pinches He never cared for a life of glory and fame People to him were all the same The few he met that were like him are dead He used to call upon them as friend The ones that were alike as well ,they met their end through his cold heart and his merciless hands So he sees no end to this misery in his head Very few in number now are the words he has said, since then Some remember him a time before Before all his traveling Before he made a man hit the floor He's different now Change is not in the equation He hasn't felt love the same He hasn't felt much the same Except when whiskey touches his lips He knew a dance with the devil might be one that lasts forever, he shouldn't sway with her hips So he danced the his life away He wanted to be with his friends The only thing he had in the end So his .357 spoke to him mighty sweet Whispering in his ear and tenderly touching his temple He never seemed to take care of his mental So his finger bearing down on the trigger This broken cowboy has finally broke So his last cigarette was a mile back that'll be the last one he would ever smoke
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