| Red stain on the grain of the timber
|
| Obscured in the trees and the towns
|
| There’s a sinister scent on the wind
|
| Our time’s gonna come around
|
| The red sun is going down
|
| There’s a devil inside of us all now
|
| There’s a giant to bring to the ground
|
| He’s takin us out when he falls
|
| Our time’s gonna come around
|
| The red sun is going down
|
| And there’s a price to pay
|
| For all that we have done
|
| Turn my eyes away
|
| And watch the setting sun
|
| Grey ghosts in the smoke of the campfires
|
| They weep and they wail with no sound
|
| They darken the lights and the lamps
|
| Our time’s gonna come around
|
| The red sun is going down
|
| There’s a sting on the gasp of my breath now
|
| There’s a mark on the wrists ever bound
|
| Raw rings in the cycle of death
|
| Our time’s gonna come around
|
| The red sun is going down
|
| And there’s a price to pay
|
| For all that we have done
|
| Turn my eyes away
|
| And watch the setting sun
|
| Now loyalty’s a pistol
|
| And my heart is full of holes
|
| I’m bleeding out my spirit
|
| Breathing out my soul
|
| Our days are all almost over
|
| Times have changed around these parts
|
| There ain’t no more cowboys
|
| Only men with violent hearts
|
| And there’s a price to pay
|
| For all that we have done
|
| Turn my eyes away
|
| And watch the setting sun |