Roses on the tombstone
Sound of chapel's bell
Sun is burning skin and infuse a thirsty feel
Dust of leather high-boots
Straw in weathered lips
Glare of silver steel which so attract to finger tips
Squeaks of aged sadlle
Noise of hoofs and whistling wind has break thru skys with force
Figures of the people
Slowly disappear
Eagles flyes above the head in heart no place for fear

Acerado, desperado !

Spurs hits floor of estate
Smell of the parfume
Boiled blood, besoted mind
Shooting in the room
People run in panic
Guest is ride away
Night change day
Then day changes night, a hotel place to stay
Snorring in the bedroom
Moon is have to rise
Slam of maple door
The law present surprise
Escort to the city
Rope around the neck
Angry crowd and scorching sun, three vultures in the sky
Hangman is about to die

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