Somewhere, he lost it in a turn
Now trouble seems to fit him like a glove [bad word]  first served, he's serving it back
He travels light, without a pack, without love [bad word] from nowhere and he turns on his own
Late for the hanging, yes he's headed for the moon
And hang 'em high

Leather cross his thighs
Blasting out the night, his cap hides his eyes
One eye on the road, price upon his head
One ear to the ground, he's listening to the dead
 [bad word] from nowhere and he turns on his own
Late for the hanging, yes he's headed for the moon
And hang 'em high

Blind to himself, and he's laughing up his scheme
Looking back in anger, the city is relieved
Vision of light, child of the night passing by

Blind to himself, he's laughing up his scheme
Looking back in anger, the city is relieved
vision of light, child of the night passing by

Leather cross his thigh
Blasting out the night, his cap hides his eyes
One eye on the road, price upon his head
One ear to the ground, he's listening to the dead
 [bad word] from nowhere, and he turns on his own
Late for the hanging, yes he's headed for the moon
And hang 'em high