He spoke in dust

That lifetime left him long ago.

Those dreams between the sunny side of death and the morning. the pale breath. the old fucking arpeggio of headaches. heart sick. hopeful this was the time when he'd find a voice above the city rabble. a grit true as the eye that made the old man famous once more before fate came and took his drawl back to tide.

We could say well better for it.

Could intimate that in the passing there was room left for the rest of us callow sons of men. who wanted the indian tits and gun play. the fortunes of navarone. chivalry laid in stoic plays on the dead savage land of ancestry. of family. of country. of home.

On the long lone.

The sunset prairie.

But we still don't have the guts. don't have the principle to stand up straight so our aging bones shiver. shake. scream for angels to come forth and show us the earth we were meant to inherit.

But they've stopped listening.

And so have we.

All World Cowboy Romance.mp3