like an old cowboy riding his horsenthrough the plains of the far westnhe's free to leave life's burden behindnand like a child he lives at his bestnnhis shield is the speed of action nto escape from gangster's trapsnhis gun is the best of the weaponsnto keep safe his moral dilemmannbut when he's spent all his shells nhe's weak again nthen he needs ammunition nto break the chains nthat link him to his deathnnis the world a big game with no preset rulesnkill and burn until you've reached successnif you go on the hill don't look for the foolncause he's gone to beat Jesus at chessnnwhere did our minds go and die nwere they afraid of being mold by modern timesnwe lost them to not face our own truthndeaf mute and blind to ourselvesnnyes we are responsible for the slow deathnof respectful societiesnand of our lonely little Earth