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