Once dead his father He closed family business Cooking tacos and burritos Was not his way of life He took from an old chest His sixshoot deathbringer And wearing his poncho had a fate to find. He joined a band of raiders Which were going to the north. Through forests, across valleys Plundering and forth. Cruel and showing no mercy, soon He became known. The man who came from southlands was striking on and on. One day while He was sleeping a poor fool tried to rob him And before hed even cried His hands lay on the floor So in retaliation He went one by one to the members of the band cutting off their hands Hes a stranger where he goes. Hes been wandering alone. Now his times about to come. Death and glory shall be known. Finally He came up to a little town in forest. And in secret with the Dark Gods He made his twisted deal. So falling into madness, thirsty of death and pain, He slayed all the peasants and ate their bloody entrails. No one will ever know What happened that day. The deal that he had done He carried with him to his grave.
band, poncho, sixshoot, deal, southland