Pat And Billy The Kid

Billy the Kid they say was far away that fateful day, when at Fort Sumner Pat Garrett did his little show stopping number. A bullit fired in the dark pierced the wrong heart, no matter to old Pat he was just polishing up his act. It was only fame he was after so kill it must be, not capture, Pat went on tour, wrote a book and an ignorant culture took the hook. He made his name got his fame, sought his financial end at the cost of a former friend. Glory though, like youth, goes by fast it all caught up with Pat at the last, he stepped out of a carriage one night and like his victims was gunned down without a fight. Poetic justice some would say but to ol' Billy laughing, it didn't matter much anyway. For he'd gone over to Gallop to live with his senorita, the trollop, changed his name and his stride moved his pistol to the right side, grew a beard and took to clerking said thank you and please to all, while working. He went straight home every afternoon strolled right on past the town's saloon, up the walk and through the door right into his sweet and pretty little whore. Some say it's a damn shame, but Billy couldn't a been happier living there all peaceful and content with his brand new name. Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid were meant to be, their names connected for all eternity. One was looking for fame, the other for fun, both sought it down the barrel of a loaded gun. Together they became a part of history, a perfect combination of limelight and mystery. Pat meet his fate while, in the dark, taking a piss, Billy threw away his dirty gun and said to hell with all of this. Pat went six-feet below, Billy and his gal went quietly down to old Mexico. Pat's dream ended in a shatter, Billy went on anonymously living happily ever after. Pat and Billy, names forever bound tight, Pat and Billy, different as day and night.