Last Gunfighter Ballad Lyrics - The Essential Guy Clark - Guy Clark

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 

It's always keep your back to the sun 

And he can almost feel the weight of the gun 

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 

And he empties the 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 

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 and 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 

And I did it all for the money and fame 

Noble was nothing but feeling no shame 

And nothing was sacred but 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 are ghosts in the street seeking revenge 

Calling him out to the lunatic fringe 

Now he's out in the traffic 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