Steve Earle — The Last Gunfighter Ballad

The old gunfighter on the porch stared into the sun And relived the days of living by the gun When deadly games of pride were played And living was mistakes not made And the thought of the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Ah, the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke And it's always keep your back to the sun You can almost feel the weight of the gun And it's faster than snakes or the blink of an eye And it's a time for all slow men to die And his eyes get squinty and his fingers twitch As he empties his gun at the son of a bitch And he's hit by the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Hit by the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Now the burn of a bullet is only a scar And he's back at his chair in front of the bar And the streets are empty and the blood's all dried And the dead are dust and the whiskey's inside So buy him a drink, lend him an ear 'Cause he's nobody's fool and the only one here Who remembers the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Remember the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke He said "I stood in that street before it was paved I learned to shoot or be shot before I could shave And I did it all for the money and fame Noble was nothing but feeling no shame And nothing was sacred but staying alive And all that I learned from a Colt .45 Was to curse the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Curse the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke" He's just an old man, now, that no one believes That says he's a gunfighter, the last of the breed And there are ghosts in the street and they're seeking revenge Calling him out to the lunatic fringe Now he's out in the traffic and checking the sun And he's killed by a car as he goes for his gun So much for the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke So much for the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke