Little Sheriff walks around these parts after school,
shooting invisible birds or bandits
with twin finger guns and magic bullets.
Little Sheriff talks like an old Western in his pre-pubescent voice,
even up in these here northern parts,
and tells passersby to stick their hands way up in the sky.
Little Sheriff wastes his enemies with four even shots to the chest
to restart their hearts and make them his friends.
Until Real man walked by one day,
caught off guard and alarmed by cheek exploding gunfire,
and sunk one real slug into the Sheriff’s brain.
S.Kelly Woz '12