Barrels and Bottles

(yeah) (eighteen eighty-nine...)

I cross the Pecos with a heavy iron on my side The

sand is dry and there is nowhere left to hide

I pour a glass of liquid fire to clear my throat And

write my name inside a dusty leather coat (gimme that bottle)

It is the smoke of the gun and the burn of the

rye Underneath a cold and bleeding Texas sky Keep your hands on

your steel when the shadows grow long Every bullet in the cylinder

is a dying man's song

Eighteen eighty-nine and the frontier is growing cold But the cylinder is

warm and the whiskey's getting old I take a shot for the

lawmen that I had to leave behind And another for the peace

that I am never gonna find

It is the smoke of the gun and the burn of the

rye Underneath a cold and bleeding Texas sky Keep your hands on

your steel when the shadows grow long Every bullet in the cylinder

is a dying man's song

(just the bottle and the iron) (eighteen eighty-nine)