In that dry, dying saloon, every whisper turned to dust,
The piano man froze stiff, like his fingers lost their trust.
Up on the rail, the boys and gals leaned close, afraid to breathe,
And the crowd stepped back real slow, like danger crawled beneath.
Only the jingle of spurs dared to cut the heavy air,
While two men stared like thunder meetin’ lightning in a stare.


Tall and blond stood the first, cold eyes carved from ice,
Sipped his whiskey, slid the cards aside, calm as dice.
Shifted his smoke left to right, measured like the moon.
The other matched him steady, danger hummin’ in the room.
A sharp gaze, calm breath, hands hidin’ iron in the shade—
Two titans standin’ tall enough to make the whole place fade.


The blond set down his glass, reached for cards,then iron instead,
Spun the chamber slow; that sound filled every head.
Pressed it to his temple…

A gasp broke loose like rain.
He slid it to his rival, who raised it without strain.
Another breath, another pull

Fear shivered through the grain.


He poured another drink, lifted iron, steady grip,
Took a swallow, aimed, and fired,

A groan filled every lip.
Passed the weight across the table, smoke twitchin’ on his face,
His foe swallowed once, took the gun with ghostlike grace.
Held it to his head…

The room shook like a drum.
The blond poured once more, drank half, raised it numb…

A wild cry tore through the saloon, cold and glum.


Five shots had passed; fate waited like a snake.
The dark man grabbed the iron slow, with nothin’ left to take.
But instead of turnin’ it inward, he aimed at the blond with a grin—
Pulled the trigger…
< Click>
The crowd burst like storm wind.
The blond drew fast as lightning, fired once, and ended the night,

He swept the room; the saloon fell tight,
Set a single bullet on the table, and walked into the night.

And I, the weary pianist, swear the tale’s been the same,
That night was the birth of the man with no name.