High Noon

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Headless Relatives

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The sun has nearly hit its zenith
My heart is ticking down
I scuff the earth with my bootheel
Dust blooms up from the ground

I mop some sweat from my forehead
With the back of my sleeve
Would anybody notice
If I just turn 'round and leave

It's just wishful thinking
There's nowhere to run
Maybe all the gunsmoke
Will shield me from the sun

The main drag is empty
As the confrontation draws close
Echoes of nervous laughter
Drift down from shuttered windows

All at once you're before me
Dry wind spreading your duster
I try to shore up my fear
With what paltry courage I can muster

But I know how this ends
You've already won
But maybe all the gunsmoke
Will shield me from the sun

Somewhere a bell rings
Even the shadows are gone
No need to stay and watch
When the conclusion's foregone

Cold iron in my hand
My face is going numb
Maybe all the gunsmoke
Will shield me from the sun

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