She came from civil war wasteland.

To sweep the bloodshed from her boots,

To tidy up and turn the clock

To turn ahead again.

To walk away

along the gray

And lay the dead

to rest.

Nothing to escape my dear

No steps to haunt from kin to kin.

For where I aim and pull the trigger,

comes a bullet from a *igger.

to right the wrongs

to keep the score

Til one by one

We share the sin no more.

So please dont look again my friend.

At the ghosts of retribution.

Let heaven worry

to hell with fury.

My ghosts my own

To put to bed

Its all our song.

Goodnight.
© Dirty Doves