When all the cards are dealt
When all the guns are drawn
The take is scattered round
The staff too scared to sound
Recognition to be found
Behind the loaded round
When eyes flicker in fear
With vengeance drawing near
While sweat drops from noses
And gin glasses with roses
When distrust stings the air
Every gunmanʼs shoulders square
When the tension builds beyond what you can hold
And everyone regrets what theyʼve been sold