Guest
From the album LIFE AFTER SUNDOWN Art by: Juha Vuorma Directed by: Laume Conroy ----------------------------------------------- I was sittin in The Thirsty Devil one sheet hung to the wind when the bat wings doors creaked open and a stranger sauntered in he moved his head from side to side and glared with a sunken eye I heard the spin of a rusty spur as he shook off the dreary night he lowered his hat, checked his gun and headed toward the bar walked on up beside me I knew he'd traveled far in a voice as thick as mud he looked to the 'keep and said... “one shot of whiskey for myself and one for my new friend“ the patrons whispered hushed and low they seemed to be afraid as if a ghost had stood right up and walked out of its grave his face was shallow and dirty his skin like leather hide sure he spoke like any man but something wasn't right so I twisted on my stool turned to him and said “thank you sir, but just the same, I'm chasin worms instead“ he growled and shoved the drink my way his eyes cold as death “I pick the drinks, you knock 'em back else draw against my hand“ chorus: when it's six to midnight and the boney hand of death is nigh you better drink your drink and shut your mouth if you draw against his hand, you can never win go ahead... drink with the living dead “who the hell do you think you are?“ my patience growin thin but swallow hard, I had to do, when the story he began his lips curled back and words came forth starting up the tale and every face inside that bar turned a shade of pale “my name is Stanton Cree and I died three years before I shot a man to steal his drink at least that's what they hung me for now I'm cursed to walk the earth and challenge every night a man to match me drink for drink or by the bullet die“ “now wait a minute, mister, no one makes me a fool“ I pushed the shot of whiskey back on over towards the ghoul “I love a drink like any man but that's a losin game to drink or draw against the dead would only be insane“ Stanton Cree tipped his hat and laughed a wicked laugh “you see, the lord cursed my soul for killin that poor man there ain't no choice so you must try to match me shot for shot if you win, then you'll go free and I can finally rot“ the barhop nodded slowly and I knew that I was screwed if I chose to duel the dead then I would surely lose so I took the glass and threw the shot into my throat I would match him drink for drink no matter if I choked whiskey, tequila, vodka, rum or gin ain't no man that I can't beat be him live or dead so into the morning I matched him ounce for ounce til Stanton Cree fell over and a winner was announced now he rests in his pine box and I still walk the streets but I don't forget the night when death had chosen me there ain't no fancy moral to go with this I fear unless you aim to kill a man and drink down his last beer!
