wild west

Learn more about other poetry terms

The grit of sand slides rough across the ground beneath his boots. He is a real talk stand tall sturdy built man and he's got nothing left to lose.
Everything rang in my old house The clocks and the doorbells And even the ID tags.   Now I've stopped time  And realize who I hate.  At the Garden of the Gods. Have you seen me?
Glass coke bottles, suntanned skin Dust, stingin’ sweat, breathe out and in Cracklin suspense, wide worried eyes One, two the slow one dies   Three, four, kickin up dust,
Subscribe to wild west