He sits alone in the corner -
The gunfighter, a dealer in death;
A coldness seems to surround him,
Keeping all others at bay...

Sipping burbon whiskey
As he sits in private reverie....
His face shows an infinite sadness
From years of riding alone;
His eyes show a mixture of lonliness
And pain none can know....

So he sits and sips his whiskey
Lonely and alone,
While his mind's eye views the nightmare
That his life of death has sown...