[Intro] (sound design: wind through loose boards, a shovel dragging in dirt, then stops) [Verse 1] I've dug on this hill since I was a boy Buried the men this town called its joy Miners, gamblers, a preacher too Bullet holes where the sermon fell through [Verse 2] I carve the names when I got the time Half of these boys I never knew mine "Died Tuesday" is all some stones will say Boot Hill don't ask how you got that way [Pre-Chorus] No flowers grow where the shade won't reach No widow left here long enough to weep The wind does all the mourning now [Chorus] Boot Hill has no flowers No angels carved in stone Just men who ran out of hours Buried here alone I dig 'em deep so the coyotes won't dig Deeper than the debts they never paid That's the only kindness this town ever gave [Verse 3] This town's near empty, the silver's long gone Storefronts boarded, the church bell's pawned Soon there'll be nobody left to grieve Just me and this shovel and the ones I won't leave [Pre-Chorus] No flowers grow where the shade won't reach No widow left here long enough to weep The wind does all the mourning now [Chorus] Boot Hill has no flowers No angels carved in stone Just men who ran out of hours Buried here alone I dig 'em deep so the coyotes won't dig Deeper than the debts they never paid That's the only kindness this town ever gave [Bridge – spoken, low] Man asked me once why I stayed after everybody else pulled out. Told him somebody's got to remember where the bodies are. Even if I'm the only one who ever will. [Final Chorus – stripped down, vocal + single guitar] Boot Hill has no flowers Just names the wind wears thin One day they'll dig my hour And plant me with my kin No stone, no prayer, no debt left to pay Just another boot heel sunk in the clay [Outro] (shovel sound stops; long silence; a single low string note fades)
