Somewhere,lost it in a turn Trouble seems to fit him like a glove. First come,first served,hes serving it back, Travels light,without a pack,without love. He comes from nowhere,returns on his own, Late for the hanging,yes hes heading for the moon Hang `em high. Leather,across his thighs, Blasting out the night,hes terrified to drive. One eye on the road, crashed upon his head, One ear to the ground,hes listening to the dead. He comes from nowhere,returns on his own, Late for the hanging,yes hes heading for the moon Hang `em high. Alone to himself,hes laughing up his sleeve, Looking back in anger,the city is rleaved. Vision of light, Child of the night, Passing by.
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