Dagny Mory — The Roads We Survived

There’s blood on the saddle horn, dried in the sun
From a fight I started, never quite won
My horse don’t look at me the same these days
Like he knows the truth about my wicked way
A man came riding with a bounty in hand
Said I was wanted all across this land
We fought in the dust till his breath ran thin
But the dust don’t cover where life’s been sent
Blood on the saddle horn, it don’t wash away
It tells a story that I can’t see