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Description
One man - the lone walker of the west.
Two shooters in their holsters, locked and loaded.
Three drops of the old creature in the swigger.
For no sweet nothings will drive away what will become of the lone ranger.
Five slingers ride along the very dusty road into town.
With their six-shooters pointed at the lonesome heart of the west.
Playing death with those lucky sevens wasn't such a great plan after all.
Not with eight tombstones buried by the infamous slingers of the wild.
The ninth person would be the lone walker or the slinger's ringer.
Ten steps to the dead man's watch, eyeing every little move of the trigger.
With the eleventh hour approaching under the hot sun, between the two.
High noon blazed itself on the dusty town's trail.

Draw.