The Gunsling (2)

He draws from his holster, a man.
Crawlin' alone, in the soot and stone,
He makes his way home half to death.
In time, and in vain.
I wash my hands of yesterday.
And if I should fall, if I should pass.
In one last stand, before the gates, before the gates of hell.
Crawlin' alone, in the soot and stone.
He makes his way home half to death.
Standin' alone, in the soot and stone.
He draws from his holster...

Yeah...

When sun sets dusk and streets are cleared,
Well this town's renegade is near.
I'm standing tall, awaiting host.
What's it like to see a ghost?

Both outlaws equal, yes indeed,
a one shot rhythm to the gunsling.
So long my sweet...
Bye bye...

Standin' alone through the soot and stone,
He draws from his holster, a man.
Crawlin' alone through the soot and stone,
He makes his way home half to death...

He clenched his fists and said a prayer,
For every breath of dusty air.
He fires loud, awaiting host.
What's it like to be a ghost?

Both outlaws equal, yes indeed,
a one shot rhythm to the gunsling.
So long my sweet...

I hear those voices calling,
"Take your life."
I cannot take this lying down...
NO...!

Standin' alone through the soot and stone,
He draws from his holster, a man.
Crawlin' alone through the soot and stone,
He makes his way home half to death...

In time (In time...)
In vain (In vain...)
Well I wash my hands of yesterday.
If I should fall, if I should pass.
It's worth one last stand
before the gates of hell...!
before the gates of hell...!
before the gates of hell...!

I hear those voices calling,
"Take your life."
I cannot take this lying down...
NO...!

Standin' alone through the soot and stone,
He draws from his holster, a man.
Crawlin' alone through the soot and stone,
He makes his way home half to death...

In time (In time...)
In vain (In vain...)
Well I wash my hands of yesterday.
If I should fall, if I should pass.
It's worth one last stand
before the gates of hell...!

El Pistolero (2)

De pie y solo entre el hollín y la piedra...
Él dibuja sobre esta funda, a un hombre.
Rastreando solo entre el hollín y la piedra...
él hace su camino hacia casa a punto de morir.
En el tiempo, y en vano.
Limpio mismanos, de ayer.
Y si debo caer, debo pasar.
En una ultima posición, ante las puertas del infierno.

De pie y solo entre el hollín y la piedra...
Él dibuja sobre esta funda, a un hombre.
Rastreando solo entre el hollín y la piedra...
él hace su camino hacia casa a punto de morir.

De pie solo entre el hollín y la piedra...
Él dibuja sobre esta funda, a un hombre.
Rastreando solo entre el hollín...

Sí...

cuando cae el sol, y las calles estan limpias,
esta ciudad rebelde se acerca.
De pie, a la espera... que es ver a un fantasma?

Ambos fuera de la ley de la igualdad, sí, de verdad,
Un disparo de ritmo al pistolero...cuanto tiempo mi dulce.
Adios, adios


Oigo esas voces susurrandome:
'matate'
No puedo aceptar esa mentira...
NO...!

A tiempo ( a tiempo...)
En vano (en vano...)
Bien, limpio mis manos de ayer.
Si debo caer, debo pasar.
Vale la pena una ultima posición
ante las puertas del infierno...!