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Nite owl in the branches so high, pale yellow eyes of dying light. |
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Looking down you can see the hellfires burning bright, I know I do. |
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Smoke travelin' like a long black train to the sky. |
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You sleep with one eye open all through the nite. |
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Nite owl in the branches so high, pale yellow eyes of dying light. |
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Looking down you can see the hellfires burning bright, I know I do. |
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You sleep with one eye open all through the nite, |
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and fly away at first sight of the morning star shining bright. |
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Low the daystar hangs upon your head. |
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Whoo! |
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There's blood on a feather, there's blood on a wing. |
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For a deed that I done, so long ago it feels like a dream |
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So I resigned myself to hide, under a darkness so lonesome and wide. |
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Til my idle time passes me by and we may meet again, |
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and through the Western sky ride. |
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There's blood on a feather. |
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When you fly away at the first sight, |
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of the morning star shining down so bright. |
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Low the daystar hangs upon your head |
