Blood On The Saddlehorn

There's blood on the saddlehorn, dried in the sun,
From a fight I started and never quite won.
My horse don't look at me the same these days,
Like he knows the truth 'bout my wicked ways.

A man came ridin' with a bounty in hand,
Said I was wanted all across this land.
We fought in the dust 'til his breath ran thin,
But the dust don't cover where a life's been sinned.


Blood on the saddlehorn, it don't wash away,
It tells the story that I can't say.
Every mile I ride, every night I mourn-
For the man I was 'fore the saddlehorn.


Whiskey don't drown it, rain don't fade,
A mark on leather from a life I've made.
Some carry scars in their skin and bone,
Mine rides with me 'til the last trail's gone.


If I could trade that blood for a second chance,
I'd hang up my gun and break this stance.
But the road's too long and my sins too wide,
And that saddlehorn's still my only guide.


Blood on the saddlehorn, it don't wash away,
It tells the story that I can't say.
Every mile I ride, every night I mourn-
For the man I was 'fore the saddlehorn.


So I ride on, never lookin' back,
Followin' the wind on a broken track.
Blood on the saddlehorn, burnin' in the morn.