Bury me slow in a cowboy cemetery where the dirt on the casket matches the dirt on the headstone. I want to spend forever beside leather
bound men fighting vainly against skies far too pleasantly blue. When they come looking I hope they'll find me weary and mummified with men of many pasts by my side.
They'll see me worn but fighting on. Gun at my hip and boots given to wear ever-etching words of freedom and lines in the dust of battles past and after life wars still to come. When my aching body is quietly lined
with wood, lower me slow. Lower me into earth of old and legends lasting and in the land of dirt and snow-driven beauty I'll lie until they come looking for the men beside and find me instead.