Songtext von The Wandering Ghost

Well he come from far off, over behind the hills And he was raised on the silent stars, and the sound of the whip-poor-will Now he's drifting slowly, in search of hope and wealth Trading in poverty and scenery, for money and hell He's just a young man, still in his prime Now a faceless cog, in some old factory line He's got a fuller wallet, and he's far from home And the evening whiskey, and he'll drink alone And the years pass by, as they often do And autumn's greys, and winter's blues His memories fade, and the pastel hues The mountains, and hollers, that his childhood knew He died cold one night, in a cinderblock room Some say that his heart just quit Beneath the concrete and steel And the city lights, and before the first frost But I knew that wasn't it The sigh upon his last breath Those twilight moments of existence He died from a broken heart From no mountains in the distance It's true it was the vile hum of grinding gears And the oppressive weight of concrete and steel That wore down his soul until it was flat And then they crushed his heart through a broken back And they buried him there in a stranger's grave With his proud mountains so far away The factory's closed and the building's burned And they left all his things out on the curb And sometimes you'll see him on a darkened road His lonely ghost, wandering home