old friend
  your horse is ready to ride
  when morning comes
    from this church town
  where damning rumors drip
  from holy tongues
    it won't go away
    the fever
  to find a scapegoat fast
  and fix the blame
    i know
  you never meant to leave
  the way you came
    looking down
  from their stained glass steeples
  they'll never know
  why you had to run
    ride as fast as you can
  they're shooting to kill