All dusty and dirty with the sand on the teeth,
All day in the saddle and I'm always in the business,
Colt me - as a father, as a bullet - as a mother,
From birth I was taught to kill.
For the money is ready for any job
Fishing, killing a raccoon
Build a dam, to get dynamite,
Thief to catch, you find pyrite.
I can get it for a penny corn
Sorry did not grow up here big watermelons.
But there is a saloon, where ever you are happy
It poured whiskey and lipstick stain,
Beautiful virgins passionate pleasures,
Are all night kiss.
And in the morning to hit the road again,
Job search, then to rest,
Although it is better to enter the face bullies
And you can beat the Indians in the tavern,
Full of knuckles, caressing my Colt
I loaded all the two hundred and twenty volts.
Bloody flower growing in her eyes,
Now they will meet only in our dreams.
Yes, revenge, but has not become easier,
After all, together with the decline of the soul dies.
This is the Wild West, there is no place for the weak,
Here the people involved from the hard dough
Worker, Indian, laborer and the thief
To finish our conversation.