Cold Dead Black Eyes



He was a fortress of a brute
Eyes of a sniper
Hands sticky with blood
Poison like a viper
A snarl on his lips
He stalked the back streets
He was hated by all
Like something unclean.
You could feel the ground shake
And the dust it scattered
When he cocked his rifle
Rain clouds gathered
He tugged his hat down
A real awful disguise
Cause I knew that hard face
And those coal dead black eyes

You want forgiveness
Then go get your religion
You want to be absolved
Find a man of the cloth
The respect you got
Has been earned with that gun
And everybody prays for the day
When they see you hang, Tom Horn.

Tom said: “That one shot was the
Best I ever made
And the dirtiest trick
I ever played.”
But shooting a young kid
Wearing his father’s clothes
Is way out of line
Even for lawless rouge.
But big money came fast
Hand over fist
Working for cattle barons
And the renegade government.
Shove homesteaders off the land
Cause there’s power in the ground
And the more you got of it
Then you got yourself a town.

Now the sheriff lured Tom
With a bottle of scotch
Got him to talking bout the crime
That kid murdering job.
And the more Tom talked
The tighter the noose
Sometimes justice gets served up
With ego and booze.
Tom Horn sat in his cell
Waiting on fate
Braiding tough hemp
Like the Injuns made.
And the very rope he fashioned
Was the one they used
To string Tom up real high
Oh, those cold dead black eyes.

There is no forgiveness in your religion
No redemption for you from a just god on high
For the sins of the father now become the son’s
A rifle is for cowards -- you never looked ‘em in the eye. Did ya?
Did ya?