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lyrics

Well he looked in the mirror
As he rode down the line
Black tie he adjusted
Strapped a holster to his side
His clothes worn from justice
On his breath a hint of rye
He's the hound on the trail
The scent of blood never hides

In his wake hang the shackles
Of the men who've run before
He's trampled out the vintage
Where the grapes of wrath are stored
He won't wait for a verdict
He's the right hand of the lord
Like a preacher with no mercy
At the left hand of the Lord

On the thundering rails
Beds are made of nails
Where the fire never fails
On the prison train
And your bonds so tight
That your hands turn white
In the never ending night
Of the prison train

On his pale horse he's riding
Smith and Wesson in his hand
The urge burns through his fingers
With lead and smoke at his command
On your head there lies a bounty
Blood and bondage it demands
There's no alibi for cowards
Drink your justice like a man

On the thundering rails
Beds are made of nails
Where the fire never fails
On the prison train
And your bonds so tight
That your hands turn white
In the never ending night
Of the prison train

Now you're hanging in the shackles
Like the ones who've come before
He's not waiting for a verdict
He's the left hand of the Lord

credits

from Tales of Lovers & Madmen, released October 14, 2014

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Lovers & Madmen Albuquerque, New Mexico

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