DYIN' AIN'T MUCH OF A LIVIN'

A whisky bottle comforts me,
and tells me not to cry.
While a full moon says a prayer for me,
I try to close my eyes.
But the night’s there to remind me,
of the guns and the early graves,
The ghosts appear as I fall asleep
to sing an outlaw’s serenard.

Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’,
when you’re livin’ on the run,
Dyin’ ain’t much of a living for the young.
Is it too late to ask for forgiveness
for the things that I have done.
Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’ for the young.

The desert’s been a friend to me,
it covers me by night,
And a snakebite’s not my enemy,
but it taught me how to fight.
All this fame don’t bring you freedom,
though it wears a thin disguise,
When an outlaw is just a man to me,
and a man had to die.

Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’,
when you’re livin’ on the run,
Dyin’ ain’t much of a living for the young.
Is it too late to ask for forgiveness
for the things that I have done.
Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’ for the young.

And I hope someone will pray for me,
When it’s my turn to die.....
Pray for me!!

Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’,
when you’re livin’ on the run,
Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin' for the young.
Is it too late to ask for forgiveness
for the things that I have done.
Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin' for the young.