fleet of foot and keen of eye
looking for fortune
looking for an alibi
back in his youth he listened
to pirate films as a lullaby
something's still missing
livin' a life of lies
hopin' I'll get a second try
his hands blackened with soot
making some sense of the senseless
if he could
The Walking Wounded
who really wished they were The Grateful Dead
soon became his umbrella
and took cover
and the rest for now is left unsaid

the apache kid