Artista

There was a gunman
On the arid boilin' sand
He was directed
To his next mark
When he heard some feared screams
And decided to get the job

With his long scar
And the hard cold stare
He may seem a really bad guy
But underneath he's pure gold
The classic antihero

With his brave white horse
He was on 'em like a whirlwind
For the desperados
No place to hide
Their fate was sealed by the ride

Shots bang out loud and clear
And the poor woman fled in fear
Two fell swiftly to the ground
And the last one
Yeah, the last one
Vanished without a sound