| I trace what’s left of my cold steel
|
| As it twitches
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| Apply the tourniquet tight, savor the moment
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| This might be my last sip of life
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| I see these one hundred miles
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| Of shifting, stirring sand
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| A forsaken man in this strangers' land
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| They’ve left me for dead
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| I’m so tired of feeling scared
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| But I’ve got to find a way
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| I’ve got this gun in my hand
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| I got blood on my tongue
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| As I write dead man’s words
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| The word we hear is
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| «There's one man down,» and he’s alive
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| They ask for volunteers, I raise my hand high
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| I’m sure he’d do the same for me
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| It’s three days through the desert heat
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| To save one man’s life
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| And I don’t even know his name
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| I’m so tired and my thirst is strong
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| I might not make it back alive
|
| I’ve got my gun at my side
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| There’s just one fear I can’t hide
|
| And it’s a dead man’s words
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| Dead Man’s words in the sand
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| Out in the desert, so tired!
|
| And I don’t even know his name
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| I will keep my head down!
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| I’m so tired but there’s no way out
|
| But… ahead!
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| I will not die out in the desert!
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| I will not die!
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| I will keep my head down!
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| How many days pass? |
| Hard to tell
|
| In the desert, the wind says nothing
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| I move, the bullet bites, infected to the bone
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| Will it find its home before me?
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| I pray that you find me soon
|
| Before I slip away
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| I’m so tired but I’ve got to hang on
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| I’ve just got to make it one more night
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| I’ve got this gun in my hand
|
| I’ve got blood on my tongue
|
| One last time I write dead man’s words
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| I’m tired, so tired
|
| I keep my head down
|
| I’m so tired
|
| I will keep my head down
|
| Keep my head down |