cully45

Johnny Rondo

The fastest gun alive am I

never intend to quit or die

I’ve killed men for fun and fame

to me it’s just an exciting game.

Two forty-fives one on each side

hang on my hips, make sure they slide

from there holsters, real quick but straight

if I draw slow it will be to late.

When bullets fly and hit there mark

death arrives, your world is dark

never intend that it should be me

so a killer I will always be.

But luck runs out sometimes its true

someone is faster, more daring than you

if I meet my match my maker will

bury me deep up on Boot Hill

I walk a path that will always mean

Friends are never what they seem

always aware of the price on my head

and a lot of people wish me dead.

It’s a lonely life that’s for sure

sometimes I wish for something more

but realize that can never be

to kill is the only way to be free.

Pinkerton men are on my trail

I ride for miles through snow and hail

reach Abilene a frontier town

no doubt someone will try to gun me down.

Hitch my horse outside the store

bullets needed, must get more

as I walk across the street

theirs is no sound, that kinda neat.

In a moment more I will know why

as the bullets begin to fly

Pinkertons have lain in wait

now I know my final fate.

As I draw and fire my gun

bullets hit me one by one

slump to my knees down in the street

my chest hurts now I see the blood secrete.

In the dirt my life fuel drains

I feel further darting pains

as more bullets hit the mark

things cloud over, it becomes dark.

My spirit rises and looks down

at the figure on the ground

I realize it must be me

my dead body I can see.

The end comes to us all in time

but mine came whilst I was in my prime

at thirty one, just for the papers page

Johnny Rondo died in a rage.

Twenty or more years ago

that scene happened I can’t let go

if you visit Abilene

a ghostly figure can be seen.

In the street just walking tall

six guns quiet they’ve done it all

a whispering figure who can it be

don’t worry folks its only me.