"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."