Black Powder

Black Powder, Black Powder.
It smells sweet to me.
Course some folks don't like it.
Can't stand FFG.

The smoke and the boom
I find really pleasant.
Though it makes me quite dirty
and I smell like a peasant.

The wife says "Don't clean guns
in this house no more!"
"They smell up the place"
and she points to the door.

So I clean while I whistle
and scrub off the goo.
It's good fun for me
though it may not suit you.

And when I shoot flame,
and the pistols make thunder,
the posse jumps back and
then most of em wonder.

"What's wrong with that boy
Has he lost all his senses?"
The stage props fell over
there's a fire by the fences!

But I block em all out.
They mean nothin to me.
Cause I ain't there no more.
I'm Time Trippin you see?

I'm standin with Wild Bill
in a smoky saloon
as we take on a few
of them foul Deadwood goons.

I'm ridin hell bent
on a stage in the sun.
Sittin next to old Jingles
with a 12 ga coach gun.

I'm in Tombstone one evening
playin Faro with Doc.
Don't know how late it is.
Someone shot up the clock.

It's just chemistry see?
Charcoal, sulphur, and such
that effects me this way.
Makes folks think that I'm touched

And I reckon they're right.
I been touched sure enough.
By those long ago times
And it's seems kinda rough

When the rounds are all shot
and I'm done for the day
and I holster my irons
and pack things away

and come back to this real world.
Had good fun for awhile.
The gunsmoke has cleared
But I still have the smile

Photo by Uno Mas aka Dan Morrison
© 2008