Pistols at dawn

hoofs clapping in the hot desert sands
crushing the already blood covered hands

the shot came too quick
with speed and size it was sick

piercing all his body
making his head floppy like noddy

the severed body layed
as incoming flys surveyed

the sun rose high at noon
peace and calm would be gone quite soon

Thunder rode on lighning and sighed
his brother had been shot and fried

He staggered off his horse for ice creams
but nothing at the parlour was as it seems

ice cream had not been there before
it was cold and left his mouth sore

the events from his brothers death were revolutionary
he and macdonald were about to discover the ferry.

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this poem changes pace
as fast as makeup changes face
and for that matter even a mace (changing a face)
think this poem no disgrace
none can replace
jus be in amaze
im goin thro a faze
where im all in a daze
i think it was the maze