We're old and ready to die so don't fuck with us.A man of action and sometimes of violence, mothers would tremble and clutch their children protectively to their bosoms as I would pass by (maybe it was the 'Pedos on tour' t-shirt, its a rock band honest) Civilised men nervously and with great respect would beg me for assistance when the job was too tough for them, the only time they would come near me.
I moseyed to the small but booming town of gravemarker in Arizona. A tough gang of cowboys known as the Backstreet Boys shot doon old Marshal Dillon in luke warm blood. I owed a lot to Marshal Robert Dillon, he made me the man I am today or at least made me walk the way I do today, months of hard riding over Bareback mountain shooting our pistols until they were empty and living off the land, Dillon could make a feast out of anything, he had the tastiest snake I have ever known and he always made sure you were full.
I got into town with my posse of Bret, Bart, Bat, Burt and Tarquin. We met our old friend Doc Hollywood, he looked bad, he stood in the street sucking the life out of everything near him like a Black hole, he was walking death, death in his six gun and death in his body. He was dying of genital warts and had Manorexia.
He told us in between coughing fits that sprayed us with phlegm that the Backstreet Boys were waiting for us at the 'So so corral' the hottest dance club in town, fuck I wished they would get their air conditioning fixed in that place.
I had just gotten into town, I hadn't even had time for a shit never mind a rehearsal, this mad me angry. Those bands of boys think they can push old age pensioners like me and my posse around we'll show them. We killed the New kids on the block, Boyzone and West Life, and as we gunned them doon we laughed and said, "Take that!....................and party."
We got to the So so corral, The Backstreet boys were standing in dance formation looking moody and oiled, their unbuttoned white frilly shirts blew in the wind caused by a conveniently placed wind machine showing their muscular young torsos, their fists clenched and all had pained expressions on their faces as if they were having a difficult bowel movement, they really meant business and I don't mean # 2's.
I moseyed to the small but booming town of gravemarker in Arizona. A tough gang of cowboys known as the Backstreet Boys shot doon old Marshal Dillon in luke warm blood. I owed a lot to Marshal Robert Dillon, he made me the man I am today or at least made me walk the way I do today, months of hard riding over Bareback mountain shooting our pistols until they were empty and living off the land, Dillon could make a feast out of anything, he had the tastiest snake I have ever known and he always made sure you were full.
I got into town with my posse of Bret, Bart, Bat, Burt and Tarquin. We met our old friend Doc Hollywood, he looked bad, he stood in the street sucking the life out of everything near him like a Black hole, he was walking death, death in his six gun and death in his body. He was dying of genital warts and had Manorexia.
He told us in between coughing fits that sprayed us with phlegm that the Backstreet Boys were waiting for us at the 'So so corral' the hottest dance club in town, fuck I wished they would get their air conditioning fixed in that place.
I had just gotten into town, I hadn't even had time for a shit never mind a rehearsal, this mad me angry. Those bands of boys think they can push old age pensioners like me and my posse around we'll show them. We killed the New kids on the block, Boyzone and West Life, and as we gunned them doon we laughed and said, "Take that!....................and party."
We got to the So so corral, The Backstreet boys were standing in dance formation looking moody and oiled, their unbuttoned white frilly shirts blew in the wind caused by a conveniently placed wind machine showing their muscular young torsos, their fists clenched and all had pained expressions on their faces as if they were having a difficult bowel movement, they really meant business and I don't mean # 2's.
They're hip, cute and have a message from God.I just knew they had a ballad about never giving up on you gurl that would contain the word 'forever' which they would rhyme with 'never' or 'onions and liver,' they were just waiting for an excuse to start harmonising.
We stood facing each other, it was as if the world was holding its breath then they made their move, a synchronised spin and a crotch thrust, they were expecting a dance off? well tough guys don't dance so we shot them.
Typical Boy band, brings a crotch thrust to a gun fight.
