| You rode a fifteen year old boy straight to his grave
|
| And the rest of us straight to hell
|
| A whiskey bottle comforts me
|
| And tells me not to cry
|
| While a full moon says a prayer for me
|
| I try to close my eyes
|
| But the night’s there to remind me
|
| Of the guns and the early graves
|
| The ghosts appear as I fall asleep
|
| To sing an outlaw’s serenade
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin'
|
| When you’re livin' on the run
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin' for the young
|
| Is it too late to ask for forgiveness
|
| For the things that I have done?
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin' for the young
|
| Oh, desert’s been a friend to me
|
| It covers me by night
|
| And a snakebite’s not my enemy
|
| But it taught me how to fight
|
| All this fame don’t bring you freedom
|
| Though it wears a thin disguise
|
| And an outlaw is just a man to me
|
| And a man has to die
|
| Oh, dyin' ain’t much of a livin'
|
| When you’re livin' on the run
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin' for the young
|
| Is it too late to ask for forgiveness
|
| For the things that I have done?
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin' for the young
|
| And I hope somebody will pray for me
|
| When it’s my turn to die, pray for me
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin'
|
| When you’re livin' on the run
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin' for the young
|
| Is it too late to ask for forgiveness
|
| For the things that I have done?
|
| Dyin' ain’t much of a livin' for the young |