Only Deadmen Know

I can speak for your wishes
but never for your impulses
This split lip culture stings the ripples
riddled tin can vultures
pedal past the dusted roads here.
It's the silver spurs on your boots
the powder in your pistols,
the crimson in your system,
the venom in your veins.
I'm stone and arsenic,
lacquered by self loathing,
malignant, yet remnant.

Cast away your shadow,
these lines are thinning,
there is age in these eyes,
in these knuckles and fists,
with the hardhearted are
broken yesterdays.
Hold them no more.
Draw sense from the wolves
find the waters at your feet.
fall to the trails of the weathered,
raise glasses in the name of brethren,
for they carry through the fog
The remnant.