Copper Falls

Copper Falls 1862

 

Posses saddled up  shots cold at the bar

the sun is setting low

dust clouds from the horse hoofs

still linger like a scar

and the echo chills down to the bone

the preachers hanging like a drunken  light post

his toes they ain't dancing up a breeze

the gambler is drowning his rage in a bottle

the sheriff's getting fit for his early grave

 

Miners camped out

the flappers closed up shop

the windows riddled with bullet holes

the stench curls the nose hair

bodies lay in scattered piles

and the vomit puddles with the blood

the widow cries out

to gods she now believes in

the cost a leg she'd gladly pay again

the barber salts his wounds

making wedding plans

for a bride he cant accept as dead

 

The ranch hand is headed for the border

nursing slugs buried deep in his chest

the scattergun wont save his life this time

hes used up all the shells he had

the carnage on display like a sideshow

the devils work is ever rarely done

nothing can tear the hollows into halves 

like an unrequited love