I Am A Ghost

The lantern's out on the hillside trail,
Gravel crunches like a mournful tale.
The night remembers what the day won't say,
And the wind keeps dragging my soul away.
I am a ghost, I am the cold,
A whisper of sorrow, a story retold.
I haunt the living, I haunt the land,
A broken outlaw with blood on his hands.
The whiskey burns but it won't forgive,
The cards I played, the life I lived.
Every friend I lost, every vow I broke,
Still hangs in the air like a funeral smoke.
No grave can bind me, no preacher can pray,
The night is my kingdom, the dawn my decay.
I ride with the silence, I ride with the rain,
A shadow of hunger, a hymn of pain.
I am a ghost, I am the cold,
A whisper of sorrow, a story retold.
I haunt the living, I haunt the land,
A broken outlaw with blood on his hands.
So if you hear footsteps where no man should tread,
Or a voice in the dark from the long since dead—
Don't turn around, don't follow too close…
It's only me ridin' on— I am a ghost.