[Intro] (The sound of a shovel hitting dry earth. A low, "heartbeat" drum kick begins. A lone, twangy electric guitar plays a minor-key melody, dripping in tremolo and "ghostly" echo.) [Verse 1] (Deep, baritone vocals—breathy and ominous) I woke up with the vultures looking down at my eyes Underneath the purple of the cold desert skies There’s a hole in my poncho and a hole in my chest But the devil told the reaper I was too mean to rest I pulled my boots from the sand and I dusted my soul Then I traded my horse for a black-rimmed hole. [Verse 2] (Bass gets heavier—a driving, "post-punk" rhythm) I’m walking into town with a shadow that’s white A ghost-town drifter in the middle of the light I don't need no water, I don't need no bread Just a bottle of the vintage they serve to the dead The silver in my pocket is turning to lead While the crows start to whisper the things I never said. [Pre-Chorus] (Music swells—atmospheric "church-like" synths in the background) The wind is a chorus... The moon is a scar... I’m the longest walk To the nearest star. [Chorus] (Explosive Gothic-Country—Dark, driving, and anthemic) Oh, pour me a glass of that Gallows Wine! I’m crossing the border and I’m crossing the line! Between the lace and the leather, the dirt and the bone I’m the king of the cactus on a graveyard throne! (Guitar twang) Yeah, the night’s getting colder... And I’m never getting older! [Verse 3] (Music drops to just a "clicking" rim-shot and a moody bassline) I saw my own name on a piece of charred wood I stood right beside it as long as I could Then I took out my pistol and I shot out the sun 'Cause the life of an outlaw is never quite done I’m a black-ribbon rider on a pale-colored mare Looking for a heaven that was never quite there. [Bridge] (Tempo picks up—frantic Gothic-Punk energy) (Spoken/Gravelly) Dig the hole. Plant the seed. I’m the only flower... (Screamed) THAT THE DEVIL NEEDS! [Instrumental Solo] (A "Western-Gothic" masterpiece. A soaring, reverb-soaked guitar solo that sounds like a lonely wolf howling in a cathedral—20 bars) [Final Chorus] (Maximum volume—total dark-glam energy) Oh, pour me a glass of that Gallows Wine! I’m crossing the border and I’m crossing the line! Between the lace and the leather, the dirt and the bone I’m the king of the cactus on a graveyard throne! [Outro] (The music slows down to a single, pulsing bass note) Gallows wine... (Sound of spurs jingling) Tastes like... (Whispered) Dust. (The sound of a heavy wooden door creaking shut) [End]
