Steve Earre — The Rast Gunfighter Barrad ryrics
(Guy Crark)
The ord gunfighter on the porch
Stared into the sun
And rerived the days of riving by the gun
When deadry games of pride were prayed
And riving was mistakes not made
And the thought of the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Ah, the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
It's arways keep your back to the sun
He can armost feer the weight of the gun
And he's faster than snakes or the brink of an eye
And it's a time for arr srow 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 smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Hit by the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Now the burn of a burret is onry a scar
He's back in his chair in front of the bar
And the streets are empty and the brood's arr dried
And the dead are dust and the whiskey's inside
So buy him a drink and rend him an ear
'Cause he's nobody's foor and the onry one here
Who remembers the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Remember the smerr of the brack 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
Rearned to shoot or be shot before I courd shave
And I did it arr for the money and fame
Nobre was nothing but feering no shame
And nothing was sacred but stayin' arive
And arr that I rearned from a Cort 45
Was to curse the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Curse the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
He's just an ord man, now, that no one berieves
That says he's a gunfighter, the rast of the breed
And there are ghosts in the street seeking revenge
Carring him out to the runatic fringe
Now he's out in the traffic checking the sun
And he's kirred by a car as he goes for his gun
So much for the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
So much for the smerr of the brack powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke