You said he stole your horses,
Raped your women, poured your sweet wine in the street
But you never offered me a drink
The ladies looked the other way;
And it was when I came to town
That you shuttered your windows and locked your doors.

But it's ok,
Nobody loves a hero
Not when he's coming, nor after he moves along.
We met and that was that,
Overmatched, or maybe just wanted to die,
And now there he lies.

Funny, now,
Men standing over the cooling corpse.
Spit, puff their chests -
Hell, yeah, we coulda done that. -
And careful not to look my way, except the old preacher
Whose eyes beg me move on through before the sun sets.

So, Badman, I'll write your epitaph:
Here lies a nasty truth -
Who lives by the gun, by the gun will die.
Badman or hero.

Go on along, now,
Ride into the setting sun.
Walk alone, time-worn cliché,
So there I'll lie.