Walkabouts The Stopping-off Place
well the fog's rollin' thick in the trees and the fire burns deep in the hole my conscience a wound with no salve it betrays me wherever I go said the best way a man can go down is to die with his face to the street and you guessed that the way I'd go down like a gambler who rolls off to sleep but that night on the mountain, I staged my own death left my clothes scattered far down the trail and I dreamed of your neck, your raven-haired crown with no trace, I jumped over the rail Move along, cannot stay The Stoppin'-off place Move along, cannot stay The Stoppin'-off place plain clothes knows nothin' bout me and plain clothes knows nothin' bout you he'll call off the chase in a snap he'll give up the chase if you ask and I promised to you, that I'd see my way clear and I'd come back to get you someday with silver for teeth and blood in my hair I'd come back and get you someday Move along, cannot stay The Stoppin'-off place Move along, cannot stay The Stoppin'-off place Move along, cannot stay The Stoppin'-off place Move along, cannot stay The Stoppin'-off place
