under a glaring sun
with an endless desert at his feet
a lone figure seeks comfort
beneath a wide brimmed cowboy hat
left for dead by those with evil in their hearts
his wifes blood staining his weathered poncho
one foot in front of the other
there is no hope only revenge
his eyes black pits of inky darkness
a soul screaming for justice
one foot in front of the other
the leather of his gun belt cracking in the heat
a hand as gruff as sandpaper caressing
the smoothed wood handle of his gun
one foot in front of the other
over another rolling dune
a shimmering image of a cabin
is it real does it matter
not much further to go
and then he'll meet them all in hell