Ghost TownA Poem by Bo LanierStanding
in the among the ruins of what Used
to be a thriving little gold fever town I
swore I heard music and laughter coming From
the half-moon saloon, I walked around But
nobody could be found still I could of Sworn
I just saw a cowboy walk chasing An Apache
in a cloud of dust well I felt a Chill
run up and down my spine and it is a Hot,
hot day in August maybe it's the heat And
the sun getting to me, I’d say that if I
just didn't stumble up on crooked head Man
swinging from dead man's tree... Apparently
they don't call this a GHOST TOWN For
nothing, and they're everywhere, one Here
and one there, voices of the dammed Keep
telling me you will not leave this town I
try to run for my life but they gather around Me
and pull me to the ground, now here I am Confused
as I go stumbling around this Cursed
town, this GHOST TOWN... Whose
blood do you have on your hands...? You
stare off into space with cold and evil dark Eyes... Does
the gun in your hand make you a man...? Now
what cowboy, now that I’m roped and tied Surrounded
by your hell hounds in this devil desert Town... Apparently
they call this a GHOST TOWN just because It’s
a GHOST TOWN! © 2016 Bo Lanier |
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Added on October 19, 2016 Last Updated on October 19, 2016 |

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