Valdez Is Coming

On the serpentine weave of winding roads Where dust and sand is blown I refuse to tender apologia For the things I do not own; Tumbleweed memories roll on by Then all at once are gone, What point is there in bemoaning Of dreams once dwelt upon? The crack-foot tread of a crooked mile That led far away from home It made no scanty difference Such roads all lead to Rome; Things that I by instinct did Fabricated to tender hurt, What point in reminiscing When everything is dirt? My invite of you, come along with me If you have such a mind, Or if you have no feelings Or things to leave behind; Valdez is coming from far away From the valley where dawn will break, What point in theorising On the vengeance in his wake? Valdez is coming from out the sun With vengeance in his wake, Valdez is coming hard and fast From the valley where dawn will break; Valdez is coming and thus is death, Down the ransacked esplanade, What point in loss and grieving For the lives we never made?