Hellbound Drifters

Pale riders from Hell they drink and they fight
They show up in towns on the blackest of nights
They live for the blood whiskey and lead you have two choices be quick or be dead

Born in Hell raised in flames they ride hellhounds on patrol
Hellbound drifters after your death consumes your soul

A fistfull of dollars and you'll hit the floor
They'll kill the whole town for a few dollars more
The good the bad the ugly alike are going to bed with revolvers tonight
Run hide any way you can you're going to die by the drifter's hands

Eyes sewn shut by the blistering sun nothing to trust but the steel of their guns
See the vultures as the bodies rot your brains hits the dirt before you hear the shot

The sun is setting on the high plains the blood has been spilled the people been slain
The buildings burn as the fire spreads smoke, fire, smell of hot lead
They're gone for now but they'll be back again
To drag you to Hell to burn for your sin