American Rambler

When the big train left the station the big whistle did not blow. It was, after all, just another journey on the gurney and no one ever called out, "All aboard!" By half-past six the execution had gone off without a hitch and that Texas convict got wheeled out through the Death House door. But the convict was only an afterthought now and neither man had ever known him and now they never would and so, dead was dead, and the two men fled beneath the haze of a waning moon. It...
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When the big train left the station the big whistle did not blow. It was, after all, just another journey on the gurney and no one ever called out, "All aboard!" By half-past six the execution had gone off without a hitch and that Texas convict got wheeled out through the Death House door.
But the convict was only an afterthought now and neither man had ever known him and now they never would and so, dead was dead, and the two men fled beneath the haze of a waning moon.
It was all of a blood up and lust to dust kind of moment in a low night gone wrong and the only thing left between them was a near empty nickel bag of weed and a split 8-Ball up their noses. They were all ablaze in high dollar blow and paranoia, hoping they might get through the night - and their whole damned lives - without the dying. But the dying was up ahead and they spoke of the girl they left behind.