I’ll murder for a fistful of dollars
A stranger is here for the Rojo brothers
John Baxter turned Mexican soldier
Eager revolvers too big for Dirty Harry’s holster
Massacre messenger, confrontation progenitor
With bones to pick like Stone Age archeologists
Son of Sam specialist, guerilla in the mist
Derringer ringleader, swinger of heaters
I cock immense hammer like Dirk Diggler
When I bear arms with gats size of Kodiaks
Pistol barrel never barren, bloodlust baron
Bullets perforate flak jackets, plasma buckets
Goblets of gore, bloodshed of world wars
Maimed rigor mortis, closed coffins in hearses
Desecrated corpses, carnage Jehovah’s witness
Adversaries’ deaths grisly as Benito Mussolini’s