Maniac In A Cowboy Hat Poem by William Mowell

There's a maniac on your doormat
A dead mans smile, in a cowboys hat

He's out for blood, and he knows where
He's not looking for it at the county fair

He's at your back door, and this is something you know
He wants it from you, there will be blood in the snow

Piss off a dead man, and get whacked
That's just the cold hard facts

No one can help you, screaming wont do
He'll kill you tonight, not leaving a clue

No fingerprints, no body, no sanity will linger
You will find no help, in an old gunslinger

He'll die to, and no one will know
The only one to catch, his sins in the snow

He will meet his maker, caught by the bow
Only to find himself laying out in the snow

The one with the arrow, just as the maniac
Only the wrongs he rights, without wearing a hat