Held Down In The Dirt And Sweat
From Town to Town, Knows No Regret
Dust Sways In The Wind That Silence Thread.

Angels Weep To Hear The Sound,
The End Of Times Hides Underground,
Knowing Of The Road That Lies Ahead.  

He Answers Not, to Death or Sword
Violence is the Symphonic Chord,
A Holstered Gun That Knows the Words to Every Line.  

Footsteps Leading To The Door,
A Last-Ditch Rise Before The Fall,
Stood A Soldier, No More Than Three or Four

Here Stood A Bird, Wings To Be Clipped.
A Shallow Grave and One Swift Kick,
Honor Preaches In An Empty Banquet Hall

As The Ring Carried On Throughout The Town
The Shadow's Vision Faded Out
Fate This Day Had Reared Its Ugly Head

The Wide-Brimmed, High-Crowned Duster
Fell Slowly From His Head,
A Remnant Of A Legacy That Bled.  

Young He Was, Picked Up The Hat
Walked To The Door And Opened That
Drowned In The Sun, A Man.