Under the desert moon, I took another man's life. Didn't give a damn if he lived or if he died. But, I should have known better, 'cause there's always a price to pay. And now I find myself always running away. 'Cause there's a very dark matter hanging over me. He didn't need his gold. Was more than he could spend. He hid it under the floor, where he met his bloody end. And now a god damn spectre, with a gun called "Death," will surely lead me to my very last breath. 'Cause there's a very dark matter hanging over me. Under the hanging tree, the Devil's waiting for me. Under the hanging tree. Live by the gun, die by the rope in another man's hand. You can pray to your god, but it won't do no good. This is your final stand. Under the hanging tree, the Devil's waiting for me!
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