Colt 45 Vs Petrodollars Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Dusty towns, once rough and grand,
Now quiet streets across the land.
The Colt's loud bark, the Winchester's hum,
Echoes fade, the old days come.

Lawmen brave and outlaws bold,
Stories whispered, bravely told.
Revolvers spun, with steady hand,
Rifles aimed to claim the land.

But times have turned, the guns are new,
Fueled by oil, a different hue.
The Petrodollar, a king of old,
Now losing grip, a story told.

Nations tired, with coins their own,
Seeds of change are being sown.
The banking giant, strong and vast,
Feels the tremor, built to last.

A cost for pride, a future's fear,
The modern West, drawing near.