Ten-Minute Writing - January 9, 2020

Die With My Boots On

Forsaken my soul in a valley a lifetime ago,
Hail storms thunder shook the playa low.
Faced the devil a baker's dozen, a mano,
Buried a wife, child, and twelve-and-one foe.

Roamed a dusty trail since I don't know when,
Just my canteen, six-gun and a lifetime of sin.
Seen every place, still not sure where I've been,
Was bad at faith, found God in a bottle of gin.

We are rough men, and our rough ways.
No time for debts, no time to pay.

We are rough men, and our rough ways.
No time for debts, don't care to pay.

Think I hear my maker a callin' my name,
Time for a reckoning, embrace the blame.
Pay the butcher's bill, death's the end game,
I'll keep moving along, thanks just the same.

Once a boy, then a man, leaving as dust,
Lived a life without penitence, a lifetime unjust.
When the time comes in my fate I will trust,
I'll lay where I'm felled, there my spurs will rust.

We are rough men, no time for debts.
Living our rough ways, no time for regrets.

​We are rough men, no time for debts.
Living our rough ways, never regrets.