Lately, my body has felt like a ghost town,
People use to intersect in my lanes,
Nobody has been coming around
And nothing is being maintained.

The old saloon is only making noise
From a ghost piano they left employed,
Destroyed are the shops and homes,
The streets bleed cracks and potholes
Where they say if you put your ear to the ground
You can hear someone around the world
Whispering a gentle "hello".

As the sun bleeds through at high noon,
Two old cowboys appear in standoff
Inside me, they tell eachother count to three.
Softly they count but both react at two,
The first puts a gun to his temple to squeeze,
The other puts a knife to his wrist to bleed.
Both have a clear intention to destroy,
Ignored in this heat, no one makes a sound
Stuck in standstill in this bodied ghost town.