Dream #4

Crows steal crumbs from the beggar's doorstep
Sorrow peeks through his fingerless gloves
His makeshift jacket yearns for one more breath
And his hands are reaching forth to grasp his love
He can't recall from where he ventured
The night he set upon this path
A rosary shifts between his dirty fingers
As he feels the cold embrace his bones at last

A gun twirled fast in the dim grey moonlight
As prison bars sealed away the lone soldier
A renegade by trade and the son of the sheriff
He fastens twice his gleaming brass shoulder
The sun splashes light onto the horizon
Has it just set or is this the dawn?
As dust begins to whip in all directions
The soldier waits for his death to come

Blood wets the spurs on the boots of the raider
Whose face is like a chimney of ash
His hand is twitching, curled by the gold traitor
He seeks to reclaim his fortune of past
The heartbeat of the sheriff roars out a warning
As bullet holes replace the comfort of glass
The raider knows this is his last morning
But he has come this far and cannot ever look back!