Texty: Sixteen Horsepower. Neck On The New Blade.

High, fiddle high, fiddle low, fiddle low
There's a ghost bound in my soul
High, fiddle high, fiddle low, fiddle low
There's a [Incomprehensible]

A crooked in my walk, a stumble in my talk
Is what I'm after little girl
Metal on the red overcast in head
I'm goin' down an feelin' ill

High, fiddle high, fiddle low, fiddle low
There's a cold blade on my crow
High, fiddle high, fiddle low, fiddle low
There's a girl that I know

You ain't never had one I don't believe you will
This is your season for standin' still
Metal on the red overcast in head
I'm goin' down an feelin' ill

See boys I've known her from way back
Back when she was dead
Tongues on fire spoke the word
And a darkness left her head

Holy my other hand
That's a fuckin' joke
Like steel cold knife on the bridge of strife
Were the words that I spoke