A lonely life he leads roaming from here too there,

Across the desert and through the hills he travels.

For hire, always for the dollar, he’ll ride,

His friend is the gun, he hunts the wanted man.

Not a family or restful home of his own,

Every sunrise or sunset may be his last.

Across the country, a man, a gun for hire,

The bounty hunter rides into the sun,

Work for this man is never done, always the firing gun.

Watch out that he doesn’t come for you,

He is the bounty hunter.

Keith Garrett


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