Cool air falls about me in the hours before dawn
As the angels life is taken on the sun
A silver voice is on high
Silver bullet and the demon dies

Purgatory is the vestibule of age
Run the bones over the sage
Marker the Episode in red
Well is filled with the dead

Horses grace the pains below
As the riders come forward sure and slow
Hats pulled low to hide fire eyes
Fear strikes all who tell the lie

Rope swings blowing in the breeze
Maker for the boys who took their leave
A solemn but stable truth
You may cheat life but death it does not lose

It was late and the shadows drifted bye
A hand rested on the pistol of life
A finger edged closer to the last lie
Dust and cowboy both will die

Ranges sing to the past