With steel on my fingers, <br />I smell of death, <br />Which forever lingers, <br />like the stench of bad breath. <br />The law cannot stop me, <br />for they cant match my speed. <br />Because I'm a gunslinger, <br />and its death that they need. <br />Many have called, <br />all of them failed. <br />I live with no conscience, <br />I'm the closest to hell. <br />Increasing my bounty, <br />they increase my pride. <br />My photos say wanted, <br />dead or alive. <br />Unsafe to settle, <br />forever I ride. <br />My gun always loaded, <br />strapped to my thigh. <br />All I give is death, <br />widows and strife. <br />My photos say wanted, <br />dead or alive.<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wanted-dead-or-alive-2/
