Killed Dead (pt. 2)

I'm fighting for space
With cowboys in this dark dispensary 
With elixirs I chase down with worry
Catalyst in the liquor, a conjured up memory
This purgatory or heaven, this cursed dive
...that we dive into with impunity, without eyes, will make legends of us in our own right, all rise

I am here and I am Holliday, or "Doc" to my friends
My Colt Lightning pistol is my wit, my Colt Thunderer is my charm, huckleberry over one's persimmon
Let me be your huckleberry, your friend or a daisy
This place will make you crazy
It's O.K Corral once you make a wrong move, for there is a Clanton and a posse of Cowboys in every hole such as this
Then you have the "Earps", the bouncers who maintain law and order, to an extent

Then there is that one rouser of ill repute, bane of peace and sociality, who comes to wield his gun of hate
And here we are in the "Tombstone" of late
In walks a Johnny Ringo and he wants to play for blood
I rise, my Faro game can wait

He's fast on the draw, calls me shit before I can say a word
But, before his recoil I fire and land a shot to his head
Out cold, like his ambitions, he is killed dead
"In pace resquiescat." Rest in peace