Blue sky above me but it ain’t calm, it’s warnin’ the land about the hell that’s comin’. Snakes twist through the grass like they’re carryin’ messages from the dead, and demons crawl out the cracks where the earth split open from all the sins buried underneath it. Horses kick up dust behind me, muscles tight, nerves shakin’, like they know the four apocalypse of hell are ridin’ close, breathin’ fire on our backs.
Cows stare empty across the fields, lookin’ more like cursed statues than living things, their eyes dark like they seen Diablo himself walk by. Guns and roses rest in my saddlebag, steel and petals, death and beauty sittin’ side by side, but out here both get used the same when the night turns violent. A decrypted body lies twisted near the riverbank, torn apart like something dragged it out of the light and into the shadows to feast.
Bloody cowboys wander these parts, men that died but didn’t stay down. Their boots scrape the dirt slow, their hats low, their skin pale like the desert drained ’em dry. They roam with no heartbeat, no mercy, just the thirst for whatever life they can tear away. Behind them, that blood-thirsty army marches steady, step by step, chains rattlin’, weapons forged from hellfire still glowin’ red at the edges.
I ride through the valley with my jaw tight, hearin’ the mountains groan as if the world knows the devil is near. Diablo stands on the ridge with flames crawlin’ across his back, his shadow stretchin’ across the canyon like a demon flag claimin’ the land. The ground shakes every time he breathes, cracks widen, dust flies, and the horses panic but I hold the reins firm, starin’ him down.
He calls out with a voice like thunder draggin’ metal, challengin’ me to step forward or turn and run like the rest. But I ain’t built to bow, ain’t shaped to break. Even when the snakes rattle warnings and the demons scream from the cliffs, even when the blood-thirsty army tightens its circle around me, I stay in the saddle, gun in hand, roses fallin’ one by one into the dirt.
This trail’s soaked in blood, fear, and fire, but I ain’t givin’ the dead the satisfaction of seein’ me tremble. If Diablo wants me, he’ll have to take me the hard way. I ride through the smoke, through the cries of the damned, past the bodies of those who tried and failed. And if this is where my story ends, then I end it standin’ tall, a lone cowboy facin’ the gates of hell with steel in my grip and fire in my eyes.
