My spirit walks these lonesome valleys
and dusty plains
Where once thrived a town
Longing for the days of life,
with my six-shooter and flesh horse
Beneath me.
There's a story in the graveyard,
a song sweet, yet sad told in
Furtive whispers from beyond.
For now, the dead mutter the unspoken
regrets of life.
But for me, a wanderer in both life
and death,
There are no regrets, for the wind
is now my mount,
And the lightning my gun!
