Tumbleweeds roll aimlessly,
empty shops, deserted homes,
the one horse
in this one horse town
has up and gone.
Put up your guns
and look around;
the O.K. corral is empty,
there is no one to fight,
your tin star is meaningless.
Blink gunslinger,
blink the dust from your eyes,
and see the player piano plays on,
pointing to presence from absence
with its joyous song.
Love this one! Well read too!