The wind dried up the blood on my vest

On the bridge above, ghosts were welcoming in the dead

They were welcoming in the dead, in single file

With a smile, I hung my hat on the guard rail

And fell in line behind the young and pale


I was thinking of all the terrible things I said

When they drew their guns and I became the song in their heads

I became the song in your head

I was a child, crooked smile, my boots were dusty as my heart

Starting over is always the hardest part

Starting over is easily the hardest part