“Hell on the Reins”

# HELL ON THE REINS [Intro — low, dirty guitar riff; slide guitar answers] [Verse 1] He rode with his hat pulled low to the glare, Red dust in his teeth, dry blood in his hair. New Mexico burned till the daylight broke, He came into town smelling of leather and smoke. A boy at the bar with a man’s hard stare, One hand on his whiskey, one eye on the stairs. Some whispered “Billy”; some bolted their doors— He drank till he couldn’t hear them anymore. [Pre-Chorus] He’d learned what a promise was worth in that land: A drink and a handshake, a gun in your hand. [Chorus] Hell on the reins, dust in his veins, Billy rode hard with the law on his trail. Spurred through the thunder, cursed at the rain, Swore they would never put him back in chains. Raise up your whiskey, remember his name— Billy rode hard, and the hard road remained. [Verse 2] He danced with a girl on a buckling floor, His hat on her head, his eyes on the door. She laughed when he stumbled and stepped on her dress; For once, he had nothing he had to protect. Then somebody spoke of a price on his head, The fiddle kept playing, but nobody said A word as he lifted his hat from her hair— By the end of the tune, there was nobody there. [Pre-Chorus] A bed for the night and a place at the fire— Always some bastard with something to gain. [Chorus] Hell on the reins, dust in his veins, Billy rode hard with the law on his trail. Spurred through the thunder, cursed at the rain, Swore they would never put him back in chains. Raise up your whiskey, remember his name— Billy rode hard, and the hard road remained. [Guitar Solo — snarling slide into a driving twin-guitar lead] [Bridge — half-time; bass and kick under the vocal] Take down the posters and look at his face— Still just a boy with no time left to waste. Give him a horse and he might make the dawn; Give him a room and he might not live long. The stories got taller with each passing year, Till the boy disappeared and the gun stayed clear. [Final Chorus — full band] Hell on the reins, dust in his veins, Billy rode hard with the law on his trail. Spurred through the thunder, cursed at the rain, Swore they would never put him back in chains. Raise up your whiskey, remember his name— Billy rode hard, and the hard road remained. [Outro — stripped back, rough vocal] The bottle goes round and the story gets told, They make him a king who never grows old. Outside, a loose shutter knocks in the wind— Someone gets up and goes to fasten it in. [Final slide-guitar note rings out]