Men crumble, their sins they can not hide, they run,

From the expressions on their faces, aging lines of haunt.

One of them runs, the other chases, they both run together,

One tries to hide his guilt and pain, the other chases to forget.

Shadow riders, at different times they are the rider, the other prey,

They are from a time of civil unrest, they kill and then die in a place for them.

It takes its toll, the hunt, and the run, tears from men dry up in the sun,

Nothing more to be said, two dying men soon would be dead, blood on their hands,

Ones knife in the desert sand, a gun left on a deserted land,

Walk in a different direction, shadow riders are never seen again.

Keith Garrett


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