V.A. HOSS's video: Guy Clark and Waylon Jennings The Last Gunfighter Ballad 1976 with Lyrics

Guy Clark with Waylon Jennings singing harmony vocals ******Lyrics******* Now the old gunfighter on the porch stared into the sun And relived the days of livin' by the gun When deadly games of pride were played Livin' 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 he can almost feel the weight of the gun And as always, keep your back to the sun And it's faster than snakes or the blink of an eye It's a time for all slow men to die And his eyes get squinty and his fingers twitch And he empties his gun at the son of a bitch And he's hit with the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Hit with the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke And the burn of bullets is only a scar And he's back in 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 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 Learned shoot or be shot before I could shave I did it all for the money and fame And noble was nothing but feelin' no shame And nothing was sacred save stayin' 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 Now he's just an old man that no one believes Says he's a gunfighter, the last of the breed And there's ghost's in the street seeking revenge Calling him out to the lunatic fringe Now he's out in the traffic, checkin' 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 a 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 Don't forget to rate and subscribe...