DESPERADO


  More than one hundred years ago he lived,


  In a small village somewhere in Mexico, a boy.


  Poor was his family as each day was a struggle,


  There were those close by, the bad ones who stole 
  Everything.

  A day came when his village was destroyed, family 
  Killed,

  Survived did he to one dsy grow to be a man.


  Revenge would be his only friend, not a bad man 
  Was he,

  With pistols at his side he would seek justice.


  They called him desperado, a no good criminal,


   He stole from them who once took everything 
  Meaningful.

  His gun did the talking, anger ate at his soul,


  He lived by campfire, ate what he shot or stole,


  Justice was one day his, his reward was always on 
  The run.
                                Keith Garrett