"Two black clouds hang high in the sky,
overhead where I stand and to where my horse will ride.
Hoofbeats solemn and low, while the wing howls of coming cold.
I'm a walking dead man in chains, I'm a number not a name.
They caught me running Southwest where the lands are still wild and free.
I was young and dumb and had a gun, but I swear he fired first at me.
So now low my head hangs and dark are my coming days.
I'm a walking dead man in chains, I'm a number not a name."