As My Final Breath Begins To Drift Away

(ahhhh) The dust is settling cold...

Red is blooming through my faded shirt

My cheek pressed flat against the prairie dirt

The sky is turning to a leaden grey

As my final breath begins to drift away

But oh, the miles we rode under the sun

The gold we took,

the lawmen on the run

The burning whiskey and the girls we knew

Before the shadows caught the wild few

I still can hear the bank-vault hinges scream

The smoke and fury of an outlaw dream

We took some lives to keep our pockets deep

Now those quiet ghosts are waking from their sleep

But oh, the miles we rode under the sun

The gold we took,

the lawmen on the run

The burning whiskey and the girls we knew

Before

the shadows caught the wild few

Let the cold wind blow...

I'm riding home... (hummmm)