stranger rides into ghost town stirring dirt beneath his feet lying there the sheriff bleeds his starry eyes the buzzards feed
pulls out a map heads across towards the lake in his sights is the crook
battling demons he can't defeat at a loss, with the sky he grieves recovering 'neath the scattered trees spirts guide him to the missing piece
picks out the trail at the perch he waits clears the scope in his sight is the crookTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
