Texty: Raconteurs. Consolers Of The Lonely. The Switch And The Spur.

In the heat of the desert sun
On the blistering trail
An appaloosa and
A wanted man sprung from jail

Slow in motion and shadow-less
The switch and the spurs
Every living thing with a fatal sting
Bark and rattle this curse

The rider hallucinates
The snapping hooves on the sand
Spits a venom dream, recalls a stranger scream
And a broken hand

The saddle spotted with sweat and blood
The poison pumps through his veins
There's no stopping this and now he's powerless
Still holding the reigns

Any pour souls who trespass against us
Whether it be beast or man
Will suffer the bite or be stung dead on sight
By those who inhabit this land

For their's is the power and this is their kingdom
As sure as the sun does burn
So enter this path but heed these four words
You shall never return

Any pour souls who trespass against us
Whether it be beast or man
Will suffer the bite or be stung dead on sight
By those who inhabit this land

For their's is the power and this is their kingdom
As sure as the sun does burn
So enter this path but heed these four words
You shall never return