I got a welded-on grin and a mausoleum tan

And I know these old woods like the back of my hand

My steel-toed boots got a preference for blood

And when it mixes with the dirt, it makes an awful red mud

With all my innocence lost

There's a line to the gallows

And I'll be granted no quarter

With a name like Drifter

It's so bitter fucking cold that a body could freeze

Swinging by its neck from a sycamore tree

'Cause when I found her, she'd already been long gone

Her skin colder than the ground she was lying upon

With all my innocence lost

There's a line to the gallows

And I'll be granted no quarter

With a name like Drifter

Now they call me a murderer and want me dead

With a bounty and a target on the back of my head

The church bells screaming of justice so loud

As my bloody red boots swing out over the crowd

With all my innocence lost

There's a line to the gallows

And I'll be granted no quarter

With a name like Drifter