Whiskey and Blood

A bottle of whiskey on a creaky old bar,

A shadow slips by where the gangsters are.

Cards on the table, cigars in the haze,

Deals are made in the dim-lit maze.

Whiskey and blood, it stains the ground,

In this small-town bar, no law’s around.

The fiddle cries as the stories unfold,

Of the mafia’s hand and a heart gone cold.

Boots on the floor, a gun by the door,

A man with a past they can’t ignore.

The sheriff’s gone, the town looks away,

The devil dances where the sinners play.

Whiskey and blood, it stains the ground,

In this small-town bar, no law’s around.

The fiddle cries as the stories unfold,

Of the mafia’s hand and a heart gone cold.

They say the preacher left town long ago,

No room for prayers where the shadows grow.

But in the silence, the truth still hums,

The price of sin when the reaper comes.

The moon hangs low, the night’s grown still,

A shot rings out on the lonesome hill.

The whiskey’s spilled, the blood runs deep,

And the town keeps secrets it’ll always keep.