Vulture

He came across the desert floor It was a sight to behold One hand on his pistol And the other counting gold The sun was in his eyes And his eyes were on the gun Of the double-crossing bastard His Father had called son And the vultures circled up above As his right hand pulled the trigger with love And the vultures circled up above As his right hand shook with the grief of love He wiped the sweat from his brow And put a smoke to his lips There was a tear in his eye As he holstered his gun to his hip The sun was in his eyes And his eyes were on the gun Of the double-crossing bastard His Father had called son And the vultures circled up above As his right hand pulled the trigger with love And the vultures circled up above As his right hand shook with the grief of love Lit a little fire to pray for all lost souls Dug a little dirt to bury those old bones Made a little mound and marked it as a home Topped by a cross pointed towards the unknown And the vultures circled up above As his right hand pulled the trigger with love And the vultures circled up above As his right hand shook with the grief of love