Eight miles east of Deadeye
Rotting in an unmarked grave
Lie the bodies of Silas Harlow Johnson
And the woman that he tried to save.

And no-one lifts a finger
No-one makes a sound
People keep their mouths shut in Deadeye town.
Minding their own business
Keep your head down
We don't need another gunslinger around
We don't need another gunslinger around

Well the moon cut the night
Like the grim reaper's scythe
As he rolled his old bones back to his hometown.
Searching high and low for his childhood sweeetheart
And a yearning to get married and settle down.

But when he mentioned her name
Folk spat upon the ground
Saying "That's the one whos sells her love
She'll drag a good man down."

Still he set right off to find her
Riding hard across the sand
But she'd never recognise him
As the man who'd offered her his hand.

Cuz he looked like some kind of gunslinger
Eyes all roling, wild and red
And as he reached for his breast pocket
She shot her childhood sweetheart dead.

And no-one lifts a finger
No-one makes a sound
People keep their mouths shut in Deadeye town.
Minding their own business
Keep your head down
We don't need another gunslinger around
We don't need another gunslinger around

And as she stared into his dying eyes
She realised what she'd done
For he was reaching for a bible
Not reaching for a gun

And when she saw that the man she'd murdered
Was the man she should have wed
She took a hatpin from her dresser
And drove it through her aching breast

And no-one lifts a finger
No-one makes a sound
People keep their mouths shut in Deadeye town.
Minding their own business
Keep your head down
We don't need another two-bit hooker around
We don't need another two-bit hooker around

And that's why eight miles east of Deadeye
Rotting in an unmarked grave
Lie the bodies of Silas Harlow Johnson
And the woman that he tried to save