The setting sun is red as blood, there in the western sky-
Iím not sure how, but still I know, this is the day I die.
Iíd not confess it to a soul, my heart is cold with fright...
A reputation hunting kid, is spoiling for a fight.
They said my draw was next to none, but that was long ago-
Now age and arthritis have combined to make me slow.
Iím far too old to face a kid, and try to beat his gun....
Iíll lie face-down in yonder street, before Iíll turn and run.
For more than twenty years Iíve worn a star upon my vest..
They say at bringing in my man, I am one of the best.
My time has come, my course is run, but still Iíll stand and fight-
Although inside a voice tells me, that I will die tonight.
Iíve heard it said, or maybe read...about the cravenís fate-
Of how he dies a thousand deaths...Iíd not live such a state..
I soak my hands in water, as hot as I can stand...
And stare into the mirror at...an old and frightened man.
I think of other cow towns, and a hundred dusty streets-
A hundred times Iíve hitched my gun, before our time to meet-
The times Iíve face another man, the times Iíve wondered why
Now I myself will meet their fate, tonightís the night I die.
I walk out in the dusty street, and look up at the moon-
I know the kid is waiting in the ďDroverís Rest SaloonĒ-
If I have to face the kid, Iíd rather have sunlight....
He called the play, I have to go...I know Iíll die tonight.
He rises from his table, as I step inside the door....
His smile is cruel and mocking as he steps out on the floor.
He says, ďYou have just one more chance, unpin the badge and ride,
Tomorrowís news will be how you were old and slow and diedĒ.
A flash of doubt shows in his eyes, I stop to make my play-
The swiftness of his lightning draw, amazes me today...
I felt his bulletís fiery breath, as I drew my forty-four-
All breathing stops as our guns crash, and he falls to the floor.
If a moralís what youíre looking for, I guess it would be this-
The fastest draw donít mean a thing, if youíre gonna miss.
I guess itís time to make my rounds, then lay down with a sigh,
My death might come tomorrow, tonight I didnít die.
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