In the southern part of Texas, east and west of El Paso, Where the mighty Franklin Mountains guard the trail to Mexico.
There's a new made widow cryin' and a hearse a-rollin slow, And I guess that Devil's passed this way again.
Theres a lathered sorrel stallion runnin through the Joshua Trees, A young man in the saddle with his coat tails in the breeze.
Got a six gun on his right hip and a rifle at his knee, And he's dealin in a game that he can't win.
CHORUS: Poor Billy Bonney, youre only twenty-one, Pat Garrett's got your name on every bullet in his gun. Each notch you carved on your six-gun's got a bloody tale to tell You're a mile ahead of Garrett, and a step outside of hell.
Them fancy clothes you're wearin' and the women in your bed, Can't take away the faces of the men that you left dead.
As you ride across the badland with a price upon your head, Now that wheel of fortune starts to turn.
Your reputation's grown till it's the biggest in the land, And there aint a lot of people left who'd wanna call your hand.
And I guess you'll go down shootin' just like all branded men, And when you shake hands with the Devil you get burned.
CHORUS x 2Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
