Ghost Train

The old west so it was called gun fighters, gamblers running from the law
Up in smoke the steam engine rolled down the tracks
Until it was attacked by the outlaws, the sherrif aboard a prisoner himself for the shoot out laid everyone down
The story goes the hanging of innocent men but the guilty escaped
What matters now is not the money, the town , the drinking, gambling or women
The sins on the track hold up the land the ghost train comes in the same time every day
Tainted with blood spreading the skulls of the old west all buried in the same dirt of desertion of the angry, the mad, and the insane
The poker table turned over all the chips rolled out of control
When the bullet holes blew out the engine haunting screams of jokers not winners
The whistle still blows