Six-Shooters & Screams
(heavy
breathing)
The soil is dry,
the harvest dead
A crown of thorns upon my head
(argh) My hands are raw,
my spirit broke
Left swinging from the hanging oak
There's no rain coming down
Only dust in this town
(get up)
Lord, forgive what I've become
Running from the setting sun
Underneath a blood-red sky
(go!) Where even the angels come to die
The well is black,
the water's poison
I hear the baying of the iron hounds (shrieking vocal)
No prayers left to save this farm
Just the cold bite of the iron arm
Lord, forgive what I've become
Running from the setting sun
Underneath a blood-red sky
(argh) Where even the angels come to die
Bury me
deep!
In the clay! (blegh!)
No rain...
No hope...
(heavy
sigh)